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millieisawriter · 29 days ago

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Love spell... or not

javier escuella x reader

summary: javier feels drawn to the newest member of the gang - a fortune teller of mysterious background. he views your tarot cards as sinful, yet can't help his growing attraction. one drunken night solves one problem, and causes another.

wc: 3.8k

tw: religious guilt, mentions of sin, sex under the influence of alcohol, unprotected p in v sex, mentions of religion during sex

all pics taken from pinterest

♡this wasn't requested, but if you wish to request something you're more than welcome♡

You were a young girl, traveling with two sturdy horses to pull your wagon, telling fortunes from one town to another. It was a decent life, though far from honest. When the townsfolk eventually discovered you were also a sly con artist, it was your cue to pack up and move on.

It was a good business − very good, in fact. You’d warn a man that his horse might be stolen, and later, when it inevitably went missing, he’d applaud your foresight, blissfully unaware you were the one who took it. Then you’d offer to divine its location for a fee and reunite him with his stolen steed.

Were your skills just a fraud? Of course not, you had great knowledge of techniques for seeing the future, for reading people’s fate. But knowing how to manipulate fate, well, that was just good business.

One night, when you met the first man you didn’t manage to con, you also found a new way to survive.

“Good evening, mister,” you greeted your target, “are you interested in hearing what the spirits have to say to you?”

All Dutch wanted to do was go outside to take a piss, and then come back right to his table, where the rest of the gang waited. They had just arrived in this territory, and what could’ve been better of a reconnaissance than a night out at the saloon? He didn’t expect to meet you at the back of the building, leaning against the wall nonchalantly.

“I’ll pass, miss,” he replied, “goodluck trying to find someone who believes in that sort of thing.”

But you were determined to obtain his pocket watch, that you’ve noticed some time ago, having observed the group. “It works best on people who don’t. Aren’t you even a little bit curious, mister?”

Dutch considered the offer. He was a gambler at heart, after all, and he couldn’t resist a game he didn’t understand. “Alright then, miss. Let’s hear what the spirits have to say.”

You invited him upstairs, to the room you had previously paid for. It was small, lit only by a dim oil lamp, with the perfect ambiance for a tarot reading. You gestured for the man to sit at the rickety table, while you took the chair across from him.

“First of all, I’ll need a personal item of yours.” You explained convincingly, as if the rule was real. “Something close to you, something the spirits can… connect with.”

Dutch smirked, shaking his head as he reached into his coat. He pulled out the watch, exactly what you wanted, passing it to you. “Fine, but if something happens to this watch, you’ll regret it.”

You laughed softly, brushing off his subtle warning. “No need to worry. You and your watch are in good hands, mister.”

He raised an eyebrow as you tucked the watch into the top of your corset. “What are you going to do with it?”

“It has to be close to the heart.” You explained, as if the rule was sacred. “I absorb the energy of it and ask the spirits for guidance.” Your movements were graceful, but not rehearsed, you pulled your deck of tarot cards from your satchel.

It seemed like a strange practice to the man, he was no stranger to deception, he’d spent his life perfecting it, but your conviction was… well, working on him. He wasn’t even sure anymore if you were pulling a con or genuinely communicating with the supernatural.

Meanwhile, the rest of the gang remained by the table. Dutch had been gone longer than expected, which was unlike him. Especially since they didn’t even hear any gunshots, which meant their leader wasn’t starting any trouble. Odd.

“What’s takin’ him so long?” Arthur was the first to ask.

“If he’s not back in five minutes, we’re checking on him.” Javier stated, draining his drink and setting the glass down with a thunk.

“Gentlemen,” Dutch announced, spreading his arms theatrically, “allow me to introduce a new… friend of ours. She’s got a knack for seeing opportunities where others don’t. I think she’ll be… valuable.”

Oh, how big their surprise was when Dutch had returned, but wasn’t alone. Right next to him were you. He let you finish your reading, and eventually confronted you. However, instead of punishing you for trying to trick the Dutch van der Linde, he offered you a place in the gang.

You saw this as both a chance and a challenge. And you liked the idea.

Of course, Dutch wasn’t going to explain the whole situation at the saloon, where everyone could hear. On the next day, back at the camp, that was where he explained the circumstances he ran into you.

Javier had been different to you from the beginning. Everyone else was either interested in your fortune-telling skills, like Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen, or simply didn’t believe it but still respected it (or didn’t care) like Arthur or Sadie. While Javier… he wasn’t the slightest bit friendly to you.

You were mysterious, and strange. It wasn’t that you were a con, that was okay by him, everyone in the gang was a criminal. However your cards, omens, spirit-talking was what clashed with his faith. To him, you were worse than reverend Swanson, because he at least believed in God. You, on the other hand, it seemed you not only rejected God, but even spoke with the Devil.

“Sin.” Javier muttered one night as he sat by the campfire alone.

You weren’t trying to bother anyone, your target for the night was to go sleep in your wagon that was stationed next to the girls’ wagon.

“You always talk to yourself, or am I just lucky to catch you at it again?” You retorted. His fear, or whatever it was he felt, was amusing to you. It wasn’t the first time you heard Javier muttering about you, and this time you were going to confront him.

“Just speaking my mind.”

“You think it’s funny?” He leaned back, his back against the log. “You have no respect for anything sacred. The Devil sent you.”

“Don’t let me interrupt your devout sermon then.” You gave a short chuckle, crossing your arms on your chest.

You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “Are you afraid of me, Javier?”

“It’s not fear, bruja,” he stood up, “it’s disgust. You’ll go to Hell, don’t you care about that?”

You laughed softly, the sound infuriatingly calm in contrast to Javier’s rising fury. “If I do, I’ll meet you there. You seem awfully concerned about my soul for a man on the run for murder.”

“Stay away from me.” He barked, and you could see the muscles in his jaw twitch. “Others may trust you, but I know you’ll doom us all with your brujería.”

You watched him retreat to his tent for the night, not arguing further. There was no point. You had no problem discussing faith with people who could keep a polite conversation, maybe even understand your point of view. But Javier spoke a lot of respect for the sacred, while his hands were stained with blood.

Not everyone in the gang was like him, though. Arthur didn’t believe in God, but at the same time he didn’t completely reject the idea of some higher power looming over this cursed world. So, he didn’t mind it when you offered him a reading the other day. For him it was just something fun, like playing dominoes or poker to pass the time.

“The Lovers.” You put the last card on the table.

Arthur eyes the card, unconvinced. “Now that’s reaching. There ain’t no—”

You interrupted him. “It doesn’t have to be about love. This card can also represent loyalty, who you stand by when the time to make a choice comes, and it will come. Sooner than you might think.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair, a low chuckle coming from his mouth. “I can take a look around any nearby town and tell you the same. New century, where there ain’t no place for people like this gang. I don’t need the cards to know that.” It was just common sense for him.

“And yet you stay,” you pointed at the previous card, the Hanging Man, “because you don’t know which way to go. You’re stuck, maybe not even because of your own choices, but because of other people’s decisions. You’re caught in the web of loyalty and circumstance, and it’s hard to see a way out.”

“Only if you were that good at reading Javier, huh?” Arthur teased, redirecting the course of the conversation after you’d hit a sensitive spot. “Don’t think nobody sees how you look at him when you’re not at each other’s throats.”

“It’s called intuition, and I am well aware of what Javier feels.” You weren’t going to deny it. “A part of him is afraid, but I can feel his energy pulling at me. Let me tell you, he’s far from disgusted, what he claims to be.”

Before Arthur could reply to this, a shadow loomed over the table. You collected your cards as your eyes traveled upwards to be met with Javier’s gaze.

The Mexican asked. “You done filling Arthur’s head with your nonsense?”

“I didn’t force him to sit here with me.” You remained calm. “It was an offer, which he accepted.”

“Are you sure you haven’t put a spell on him?” Javier’s tone was sarcastic. “You think it’s all fun and games until you end up cursing someone.”

Arthur stood up with an amused smile. “Don’t worry, Javier, if there’s Hell, I’m already going there.” He said, patting him on the back and walking away.

Javier’s eyes followed Arthur. “Doesn’t change the fact I don’t trust her!”

You knocked on the back of the deck, and shuffled the card. As you did that, your gaze stayed on Javier, knowing he was waiting for your retort. A few seconds later you pulled out the Seven of Swords, flourishing to Javier. “You don’t trust yourself, question your own intentions. When will you stop sabotaging what your heart wants?”

Javier’s expression shifted slightly. It wasn’t anger this time. It was doubt, but he masked it quickly, his gaze darkening once more. “You don’t know me, bruja.”

A faint smile appeared on your lips. “Your heart already tells me everything I need to know.”

He walked away quickly, his boots kicking up dust as he stormed off. You knew what he really felt, and he knew that too even if he hated it. And you knew, one day his feelings would come to the surface. Sooner than he expected.

It happened on the night of your first robbery with the gang. You, Karen, Sean, and Lenny had successfully robbed a stagecoach that was passing nearby. It carried money, a delivery to the nearby bank. You figured it would be easier to attack the stagecoach, than the bank.

Before the law arrived at the scene, the four of you were already back at the camp. The whole gang was in high spirits, Dutch even played music from his gramophone. It was the first time you had seen the gang so free. Bottles of whiskey and moonshine were passed around, and for the first time since joining the gang you truly felt like this is the place you belong in.

Tired from the dancing, you sat down on the log near the campfire and for a moment all you did was sit and watch the others. There was a nearly empty bottle in your hand, and the biggest smile on your face.

Karen was dancing with Sean, who was far too tipsy to keep up with her steps but tried anyway. Molly was being twirled around by Dutch, Arthur agreed to accompany Tilly for one song, and with the corner of your eye you could see Mary-Beth trying to encourage Kieran to dance with her. Even miss Grimshaw allowed herself to relax and swayed to the music with Uncle.

Then there was Javier. Standing a few feet away from the dancing bunch, leaning on Pearson’s wagon with a bottle of moonshine in hand. He happened to shift his gaze to meet yours, as if he sensed you were looking.

You finished your bottle before speaking, “Maybe I like what I see.”

“You’re staring, bruja.” Javier called out to you, his voice lacking its usual bite, but still sarcastic. And, for some reason, the man walked over to you.

He sat down right next to you, and you could swear the magnetic attraction you’d always felt was now impossible to ignore. Maybe alcohol was all the two of you needed. Maybe it was all Javier needed to finally be honest with his feelings.

He asked. “You know, it’s not that I hate you, right?” As if he didn’t think you must have been already aware.

“I know.” You hummed.

“What is it, then?”

You couldn’t give him an answer. His feelings were far away from hatred or disgust or anything of that kind, but you couldn’t be the one to teach him what he felt. It wasn’t your place to make him say things he hid from himself.

“I know it’s not fear,” he added, “I’m not scared of you.”

“Aren’t you scared I’ll curse you?” You chuckled. “You seemed pretty concerned about that.”

“Oh, please,” he snorted, his gaze briefly shifting to the ground as his mind recalled it, “I think you’ve already done that. Long ago, the first time I saw you.”

“Is that so?”

Javier nodded with a barely noticeable smile. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You just… appeared one day in our lives. Different from what we’ve known, but you didn’t even try to fit in. You simply… do. Maybe that’s a little disturbing.”

You laughed. “Ah, I thought the moonshine’s gonna make you take a liking to me.”

“I meant it in a good way,” he sat up straight, “you make me think. It worries me, because no woman did that before.”

The sounds of the gramophone, and the cheerful laughter of the others was so distant out of a sudden. Javier’s confession wasn’t anything you hadn’t at least suspected, but it made your confidence falter.

“And what do you think?” You inquired, subconsciously leaning in closer.

“I think…” Javier hesitated. When his gaze met yours, just inches away, you could really see the true conflict in his eyes. “I think I don’t know what to do about it.”

It was the first time you’d been that close. His eyes told you he was looking for a reason to pull away, even walk away from the fire, and pretend you still hate each other the next morning. But none of that happened.

Instead, your lips connected. You weren’t even sure who initiated it, both of you were equally eager. Except it wasn’t like two lovers finally admitting their feelings, no, it was as if your bickering continued without words. It was the culmination of every sharp word you said to each other, every insult thrown.

The few following seconds were a blur when Javier led you to his tent. Thankfully, no one else noticed that, and you had at least the illusion of privacy. Any words were unnecessary as you undressed each other, movements rushed and messy, as though you didn’t wanna break some kind of spell that had woven itself around the two of you.

Javier’s tent, the inside of it, was exactly how you would have imagined. His guitar resting somewhere in the corner, the tent lit just by an oil lamp that stood on a box next to Javier’s cot. And, what briefly caught your attention, was the picture of the Holy Virgin standing right next to the lamp. She was beautiful, but her eyes pierced right through you, as if she was judging.

And she had every right to judge. Javier, the man who so strictly believed in his catholic God, let himself surrender to the temptation. Maybe it was obvious all along, the Devil had sent you as a way to test Javier’s faith.

Apparently, his faith wasn’t strong enough. As your lips connected again, he pushed you back to lie down. And as he was now completely naked upon you, one thing couldn’t have gone unnoticed. From his neck hung a pendant of the Holy Virgin, now brushing your skin as the man entered you.

Each time he rolled his hips into your core, it felt like a rebellion. A silent type of a protest towards himself, and what he believed in. The pendant swung with every thrust, brushing against your skin, as if marking you with its presence.

“She’s watching,” you whispered, one hand faintly scratching Javier’s back, the other touching the pendant, “judging.” Possibly, for the first time, you felt guilty. But why? You didn’t believe in his religion.

“Mhm, I know.” Javier replied, guiding your hand away from the Holy Virgin.

The man briefly pulled out, and with one movement flipped you over onto your stomach. With no warning, he slid right back into you, his pelvis now meeting with your ass when the tip of his cock reached places it couldn’t in missionary. You arched slightly, like a cat in heat, and the pleasure mixed just perfectly with the pain of his dick hitting your cervix.

“Perdóname.” Javier whispered, but you figured he wasn’t apologizing to you, even if you couldn’t see the way his gaze flickered to the picture next to his cot.

You felt his breath on your neck, warm and uneven, as he leaned closer, his hand gripping your waist tightly, grounding himself in the physical even as his mind battled with the spiritual.

You clawed at the cot beneath you, biting your lip to stifle your own cries as his thrusts became slower but harder. If there was any trace of the Devil lurking within you, it seemed Javier was intent on driving it out, leaving nothing but the rawness of sin and surrender.

Feeling you clench around him, and the way your breath was now coming in short gasps, he knew he wouldn't last much longer himself. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let your deliciously overwhelming orgasm flow through your body, reaching every part of it.

Just as you came down from your high, Javier pulled out with a strained groan, and no sooner you felt his warm seed across your back. Maybe it was the moment his post-nut clarity kicked in, but he wasn’t the most talkative as he cleaned you up.

He let you stay in his tent for the night. Your still tipsy mind figured it was the alcohol mixed with the sex that made him so tired. You were exhausted as well, after all. Except, falling asleep came easy to you, meanwhile Javier laid on his back, awake, for what could’ve been both half an hour or three hours.

He replayed the evening in fragments, and weighed them against the condemnation he felt. One of his hands reached to the pendant on his neck, it was around some morning hour. He hoped maybe a prayer would solve his problem. Maybe a prayer would be enough to feel peace.

“Madre Santísima, perdoname por lo que he hecho.” Javier spoke, his eyes closed as he tried to focus on how much he should regret what he had done.

Why did it have to be you? You weren’t the woman for him. A woman that believes in nothing would have been better than the woman who practices devilry. A woman who believes in nothing might have been easier to sway, to mold, to save. But you? There was no way you’d leave your magic that Javier was sure Satan had put into your hands.

Javier continued his prayer. “Perdóname por mis pecados, por dejarme llevar por la tentación de una diabla.” Maybe, after all, he was scared.

You blinked your eyes open. Though quiet, his whisper did manage to wake you up. He had no idea you could hear him, his eyes still closed as his prayer continued.

“No quiero perder mi alma. Ayúdame a resistir—”

You cleared your throat. “Seriously?”

Javier froze, his eyes opening and his gaze met yours. You were upset. There you were, letting yourself think that maybe he could warm up to you. That the night meant something to him.

You sat up. “You kill with no remorse, steal, lie, do God knows what else,” you listed with anger and disbelief, “but this − sleeping with me − is what you need to be forgiven for? This is where you draw the line?”

You huffed, attempting to leave the cot, the blanket slipping down your bare skin. The man’s hypocrisy made you feel filthy. Like sleeping with you was worse than murder to him.

His jaw clenched as he sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You don’t understand it.”

Tears burned your eyes as you put your clothes on. “Don’t act like you’re the victim. Don’t act like I dragged you into this. Like you didn’t want this as much as I did.”

Javier didn’t consider himself a victim to your seductive powers. He knew he was guilty, and maybe this made it even worse. “That’s not what I’m saying. I… I wanted you.”

“Then why the prayer?” You asked, crossing your arms on your chest for a slight illusion of comfort. “You either want me, or you think I’m the Devil.”

“It’s just…”

You interrupted him before he conjured the right words. “Do you think what we did was worse than the blood on your hands?” Your voice lowered. “Or is it just easier to feel guilty about because it doesn’t make you face the man you really are?”

That one night, or rather the morning after, proved to you something you pondered since you had met the gang. You’ve never killed, and you wondered how come these men could sleep with so many innocent souls on their conscience. Now you knew. The solution was to find something easier to feel guilty about.

Silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable. Javier was looking at you now, but not with anger. He looked at you, knowing how well you had him figured out. He was completely exposed, his wretched soul bare before your eyes.

Javier had no answer for you. He stood up, wanting to say something, but he couldn’t make up anything that didn’t sound like an excuse. For a second he hesitated, wanting to reach out and take your hand in his, but he stopped himself.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You know that, Javier? Stick to praying. Seems to be the only thing you’re good at.”

With that, you stormed outside of his tent. The morning air was refreshing, different from the suffocating air inside the tent, where Javier stayed in stunned silence.

All you wanted was to get as far from him as possible. Finding a quiet spot near the outskirts of camp, you sat down and wrapped your arms around yourself, and that was when you allowed yourself to cry.

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 smut #rdr2 x reader smut #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella smut #javier escuella x reader smut #rdr2 imagine #javier escuella fanfiction

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mx-pastelwriting · 2 years ago

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RDR2 HC - How They'd React to you coming to them when its a cold night.

RDR2 x GN! Reader

Summary: How They'd React to you coming to them when its a cold night.

Warnings: Fluff, Cuddles, Established Relationship

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

Dutch van der Linde

-Would wake up startled and reach for his gun under his pillow, but quickly sees it's just you.

-He takes a breath, a sign of relief, and asks you with a laugh what you're doing in his tent.

-Only dating for two months, you never spend a night in Dutch's tent. He respected your choice to go slowly, but on this cold night, everyone had to huddle up near the fire, leaving no room for you.

-Explaining to him, he happily opens his blanket for you to snuggle in. His hands wrap around your waist, him being the big spoon.

-Being so close, he whispers into your ear, telling you how much he loves you and the moments you have.

Dutch spoke sweet nothing into your ear, his warm body welcoming you, the shivering one. As you fall asleep, he pulls you closer into his chest. He kisses the back of your neck, making you laugh in your sleepy state. Not stopping, he locked his fingers with yours to bring you more warmth. Your eyes started to fall closed; he noticed and pulled the blanket over you, tucking you in with a final kiss on the cheek before you fell asleep.

Arthur Morgan

-Would be up and see you coming to his bed; through the five months you had been dating, you had only been next to him in bed three times.

-It wasn’t a regular thing to come to his bed and cuddle with him, but he welcomed you with open arms.

-He could feel how cold it was, so he moved over before pulling you onto his chest and putting the blanket around you.

-Saying nothing, the only thing you hear is his warm breaths and his heartbeat, which you could only hear in his little space.

-Waiting until you stop shaking, he gives you a kiss on the hand, taking it from the warm underside of the blanket before you fall asleep.

You could feel Arthur's hand cup your cheek; its warmth tingled your cheek, and as it came closer, you kissed him, causing a hummed laugh from him. Smiling, you cuddle in more into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as he did yours, and looking up, you meet his eyes. You kiss him, cuddling up into his neck. Taking a final deep breath, you close your eyes, having his breaths lullaby you to sleep. You could faintly catch an "I love you," but you chalked it up to the crackling of the fire a few feet away.

Javier Escuella

-After his song for the night, as he was getting ready for bed, he saw you come over with your bedding.

-Would greet you and help you place your bedding next to his by the fire. As you both lay down, he faces you, warping his arm around your waist.

-You only started dating, but he made you feel like the only thing in his world. Dutch had nothing on you in Javier's eyes.

-He kisses you as he talks to you and then sings you to sleep, his voice like honey, like his kisses now on your cheek and forehead.

-Pulls you in closer as he sings to intertwine his legs with yours, tucking in your blanket more, and watching you fall asleep.

Javier's arms were warmly tucked under your arms, and his voice sang softly with words only for you. With your eyes closed, you could hear a smile on his face and his hand caressing his thumb. He planted kisses on your nose before going back to singing, He didn't care if anyone listened to him; he wanted them to know how much he loved you, despite him not being able to say it just yet because it would be too soon. He let you fall asleep with his love song playing in the background as you faded into sleep.

Charles Smith

-You would have to get him off guard duty; thankfully, he was just about to switch with Bill.

-The bedding was already set up beforehand by you; you watched him as you shook under the blankets.

-Only dating for five and a half months just about how long he had been with you and the gang—you noticed how talkative and close he had been to, among other things, so you took that to confess your love for him.

-He quickly gets in, warping his arms around you and letting you rest your head on his chest. He rubs his hand on your arm, trying his best to warm you up.

-He kisses you on the top of your head, and he told you stories that his mother told him.

Listening to his stories, you tuck your arm close to you as you hear his faint heartbeat with his lungs air coming in or out, letting him continue with his story. You watched the fire going with the wind, but your eyes fought to close, and Charles's voice lulled you to sleep. It was quickly affecting you. With his arm soothing you, in the end, you lost hearing his warm voice as you faded into sleep.

Bill Williamson

-He would be a bit drunk, and you would have to get him to bed or at least tell him it's bedtime.

-He was a very lovely dove to you when he was drunk, so tucking him in was easy, and he pulled you to his chest. He mumbles "I love you" a lot.

-Kisses you so much all over your face, but if you tell him to stop, he does because he knows he smells like beer.

-You dated him for a year now, and throughout that time, you've made him less of an asshole, but he's still your Bill.

-A living space heater keeping you warm through the night, he would snuggle into your neck in the middle of the night.

Bill kissed your cheek and neck, talking about how much he loves you, and you laughed as his kisses tickled your skin. Soon after you asked him to stop, he thought about it for a minute, then did snuggle into your neck. His arms warped around you, but he continued to whisper "I love you" in your ear, kissing you one last time before letting you both go to sleep.

Hosea Matthews

-Would wake up when you get into his bed, though not getting his gun as you tell him it's you.

-He cuddles you quickly, feeling that you were shaking. He whispers that you're okay and rubs your arms, the friction from which gives you more warmth.

-He gives you kisses on your cheek and forehead, then cups your face, trying everything to make you stop shaking.

-When you did, he pulled you closer. Now he had to get you to sleep. He makes voices and tells stories about getting people out of money.

-Though he had made you laugh up a storm, you were exhausted after his words. He noticed and gave you a kiss one last time before you fell asleep.

Hosea rubbed your arms, slowly kissing the top of your head. He whispered something you couldn't make out, but it soothed you. You listened to his lungs and heartbeat as they slowed, then heard his soft snores. You huffed a laugh at it, but quickly you fell under the sleep spell, and you cuddled closer. Closing your eyes, you fall asleep, hoping you can wake before him to get him coffee. You love when his face lights up.

John Marston

-He would be so confused waking up to your cold body next to him shaking, but he would ask you "What's wrong?".

-After telling him, he pulls you closer to him, kissing your cheek. His voice was hoarse as he told you how cold you were.

-He pulled the blanket up more, letting you intertwine your legs with his.

-He wanted to move you both next to the fire, but he could not when your shaking had come to a stop.

-Trying not to fall asleep first, but losing the battle, he talked little loving things into your ear with a final "I love you".

John put his hand on your back, rubbing it here and there; you could feel his body move like he was wanting to move, but you had only just stopped shaking. He had laid back down and continued to talk, pulling you closer. You could hear in his words how he slurred; he was falling asleep. Patting his chest, you tell him to go to sleep, but he tells you he's not tired, so you just leave it with a smile, letting yourself fall into the sweet bliss of sleep.

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

#arthur morgan x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #bill williamson x reader #hosea matthews x reader #john marston x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 headcanons #dutch van der linde x reader

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slicedmayonnaise · 11 months ago

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I'M LITERALLY CRYING OVER JOHN'S SHIRT BC IN MY FIC HE IS LITERALLY ADDICTED TO COCAINE JAKSHMSKDBRHF HELP

My RDR Modern AU!

I plan on doing more, but here's a (drunk) polaroid of John and Javier being gay for each other for now! :))

[check out my carrd!] | [commissions are open!]

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #rdr #red dead redemption two #red dead #red dead 2 #john marston #javier escuella #jovier #welcome to escuella's

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grinnis · 5 months ago

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Hi hi! <3

I'm casually working on a couple x readers currently but sometimes the inspiration to continue is hard to find because I need to make the key plot up by myself SOOOOO if anyone has any requests or wishes on RDR2 x readers feel SO free to ask !!

I find drawing requests to be much more motivating to complete so I have no doubt it'll be the same for writing :)

No promises though, sometimes life gets in the way (somehow especially when writing fanfiction ??)

#requests open #suggestions welcome #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #tilly jackson x reader #mary beth gaskill x reader #sadie adler x reader #karen jones x reader #why are there so many characters #abigail marston x reader #micah bell x reader #i cba listing everyone i'll be so real

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cowboyfromh3ll · 1 year ago

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Hcs for the boys' toxic traits. Preferably arthur, javier, john, and charles, but other boys are welcome too! I'm curious to see what you'd say Dutch's toxic traist are, though they're pretty self explanatory 😭

I just love how you write sm sorreyyyy

Van Der Linde Gang's Toxic traits

(Arthur Morgan, Javier Escuella, John Marston, Charles Smith, Micah Bell, Dutch Van Der Linde, Sean Macguire, Kieran Duffy, Eagle Flies)

HAHAHA THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE. I tried not to sugarcoat anything.

Arthur Morgan - He definitely has some trouble communicating. Not to say he never will communicate with you but it'll be long in between and after it's been plaguing him for a milenium. As we've seen, this man is capable of having deep, well thought out conversations. He'd also be pretty prideful to some degree. Mostly depends what point in time you start dating, later in game he'd be able to see past his pride. Also, I feel like if you were dating a major point of contention in your relationship would be questioning whether it's time to move on from this life.

Javier Escuella - WAY too jealous. I don't even mean it in a cute way but in a way that would genuinely cause several arguments between you two. "Why were you looking at him that way?" "That sounded like you were flirting with him" "Why do you spend so much time around the other guys?" Would also be around you 24/7. Someone would be incapable of having a conversation with you that doesn't include Javier. You two would also argue about Dutch's leadership skills.

John Marston - Oh my God this man is so indecisive. Doesn't know what he wants ever. In a modern setting you two would be sitting in the car, asking each other back and forth "what do you wanna eat?". And his commitment issues? Good lord. At some points in your relationship it'd probably feel like you guys aren't dating at all. You'd probably have to beg him to put some effort into the relationship to be honest.

Charles Smith - It's so hard to think of ANYTHING this man can do wrong but alas, I must. You probably wouldn't be his top priority at all times. Which isn't to say you should ALWAYS be at the top of his list, but sometimes it can result in your feelings being neglected over a situation that affects you. Only when the day reaches it's end will he consult you over something, which will have you feeling incredibly frustrated.

Micah Bell - This man is a walking red flag so let's not dance around his flaws. Incredibly prideful, will ignore your warnings over something just to get his way. Also probably lies to you A LOT. Can be way too rough with you in many aspects. Also this man embodies the word sleezy. Yuck.

Dutch Van Der Linde - Do I even need to say. So fucking stubborn. He also probably thinks he's intelectually superior to you. If you bring up a concern to him he'll probably use as many flowery and big words as possible to make himself appear smarter during the discussion than he actually is. And if you advise him to do anything he'll probably just ignore you, saying you don't know what you're talking about. All in all, thinks he's better than you. Also you're probably a trophy wife since Dutch views women as accessories to his success, if you can even call it success.

Sean Macguire - He doesn't take anything seriously. If you're trying to have a genuine discussion with him he'll play it down and make it seem less important or severe than it actually is. Don't even bother trying to emphasize how serious you are because he won't take that seriously either. It's only until he feels the consequences of his actions will he listen to you, which results in a frustrating cycle.

Kieran Duffy - Also very indecisive but in the way where he can't speak up for himself because he doesn't think it's important. Has such low self esteem, he also probably thinks his emotions are less important which results in a lot of miscommunication on his behalf. Sorta just let's you take the lead all the way, always let's you have your way, with no valuable input of his own. You have to shake his shoulders and beg for him to actually speak his mind.

Eagle Flies - He's probably so childish. Like, mommy issues CEO over here. Will probably seek for you to fulfill that role in his life. Has almost no control over his emotions and has trouble identifying them, and when he does indentify them, has absolutely no idea what to do with them in terms of expression. He will make various efforts to communicate with you but will struggle immensely. Being with him will probably be like teaching a man how to experience emotions in a healthy way. I could write an entire post dedicated to what I think his toxic traits are

More eagle flies ones

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josephquinnswhore · 2 months ago

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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.

#Javier Escuella #outlaw lover #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #Javier love #javier escuella x female reader #Javier escualla fluff #I LOVE JAVIER ESCUELLA #Javier escuella x you #Javier Escuella fic

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we-loved-once-and-true · 10 months ago

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Two's a Party, Three's... a Bigger Party

Reader and Javier are friends with benefits who use the cover of overnight jobs to release some tension. When new guy Charles joins the gang, Dutch insists he joins them on one of their trips. Will the presence of this gorgeous stranger throw a hammer in their plans, or are these jobs about to get a lot more fun?

Chapter One: Heatstroke

Chapter Two Tumblr // AO3

1527 words Read on AO3

You and Javier prepare for a robbery over in West Elizabeth, a welcome change from the New Austin sun and the relentless tension building between you. Was it the heat or the heat that gave you heatstroke?

F!Reader x Javier x Charles / porn with plot / ch1 suggestive, smut coming in ch2 / reader not described but mentions being from the east coast / pre-Blackwater / the camp is Twin Rocks in New Austin / no whump but reader has heatstroke / we'll meet Charles in ch 3

The midday sun bore into your skin, beads of sweat rolled down your back. The bandana that swept the sweat from your brow was now too damp to do much good, and was resigned to stop the burning metal of the rifle from blistering your hands.

You were going to kill Bill Williamson.

He knew it was his guard shift when he left to go “hunting”. You should have known you’d end up on guard duty; the heat making your blood boil had made you quite an annoyance for Grimshaw. You were too warm to sit and sew, too hot to labour over laundry, and no way were you willing to make your horse endure the sun anymo than necessary. As Bill trotted out of Twin Rocks, you could already sense Grimshaw’s focus on you.

With half an hour left, you resigned yourself to another pace around the camp. Usually, behind the old buildings would provide a little shade, but the punishing noon sun banished shadows from appearing. As you approached the back of camp, you squinted to look up at the hills. New Austin burned, but God was it beautiful.

“Careful, cariño, someone might sneak up on you,” a smooth voice teased from behind you. Spinning around, you saw Javier leaning against the wall, a cigarette hanging from his smirk, his face even more tanned than usual. His eyes narrowed in the glare of the sun as he looked at you from under his sombrero, the wide brim casting the only shadow for miles around. You had never wanted one more.

“Didn’t sneak up on me Escuella,” you lied with a grin, “I saw ya, just didn’t think you were much of a threat.” Your voice was slightly breathless - as far as handling the weather, you were haggard compared to the Mexican relaxing in front of you.

He chuckled softly, “That right, cariño?” His gaze shifted slightly, taking in more of your figure, causing a shiver to run through you. “Guess I haven’t been able to show off my skills recently… been a while since we last did a job, ay?”

Fighting your bashful blush, you looked away and blew a loose strand of hair from your face. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was watching your lips. You licked them before speaking, not acknowledging the shaky breath in front of you, “Has been some time, huh? I’ve been too busy scrubbing the constant dust from all our clothes to find any leads.” You kept your voice neutral incase anyone overheard, but you hoped your apology was apparent to him.

He clicked his tongue and pushed off the wall, “No worries, cariño, I got ya. Well, John said somethin’ about a stagecoach. Probably not as interesting as your laundry though.” Javier was now standing as close as he could while being in the camp; close enough to see the depths of his eyes, but not arouse suspicion. The perfect distance to make your heart jump, to make your face flush, to make you dizzy in anticipation.

There were rumours from the get-go about the two of you. The two newest recruits of the Van der Linde gang, inseparable as if from birth, found a fast and deep friendship in one another. Javier, heartbroken and forced from his home. You, having lost your family and prospects. You joined after attempting to pick-pocket Mary-Beth, who took pity on your starved and scared face, and saw a little of herself in you. You sheepishly returned her pocket watch, she apologetically returned your coin purse.

Less than a few months later, Dutch rode in with another lost soul, this one a ravenous and bloodstained foreigner. As Mary-Beth had with you, you saw yourself in his sunken face. You volunteered to help him, teaching him English and soothing him from his manic nightmares. In turn, he taught you to live by the ways of shooting and fishing. Together, you rebuilt yourselves, perfecting your partnership in crime. As to not disturb the girls you bunked with during his nightly terrors, you unceremoniously moved your bedroll into his lean-to. He didn’t look up from sharpening his knife when he told you to make yourself at home. His nightmares came less frequently.

Your friendship was natural, moving in sync and communicating with a glance. The rumours, therefore, were expected. Mary-Beth would embellish your fondness of the new mysterious revolutionary into little teases and tales. For years, you both insisted you were only friends, and for years you were telling the truth.

A job in Nevada turned sour fast, and through a storm of bullets you both escaped - nearly unscathed. Banged up from the fight and with a bullet gash in your thigh, you ended up laying on a musty cot in an abandoned cabin as Javier’s slim and precise fingers stitched you up, straddling your legs to hold you still. A bandaged leg and several bottles of whiskey later, you found yourself straddling him, fingers in his hair, kissing him like you needed him to survive.

His heart was still broken. You still wanted the freedom of a woman not spoken-for. So, friends you remained.

Long missions would keep you both from camp for a few days. Travel out, rob, hide, travel back. The adrenaline, the rush, the celebratory liquor - it was a routine between best friends. It wasn’t love - not in the traditional sense - but it was passion.

You threw yourself down on your bedroll, a long heavy sign releasing the stress from your body. The short shadow of your lean-to left your lower legs and feet in the sun, but the relief on your face and arms was heavenly. Your legs were lead and your blistered feet throbbed in your boots. Aching muscles and imminent heat stroke distracted you from approaching footsteps, the jingling of spurs muffled by a pounding headache.

You flinched at the cold cloth touching your face. “Easy, cariño,” his familiar voice cooed, “I’ll get you some water.” The cold bandana eased the stinging of your face; taking deep breaths, you smelt the tobacco and aftershave that soaked the fibres of Javier’s clothes (and, by proxy, quite a few of yours). A sloshing sound told you Javier had returned with your full canteena. Propping yourself up, you gulped down the water with desperate gratitude, the dizziness of heat stroke fading. Returning yourself to your pillow, you allowed the cloth to block the light and let the pull of sleep take over, barely aware of Javier’s gentle strumming.

You stirred awake, wiping your face with Javier’s bandana. Mid-afternoon sunlight dazzled your eyes, but thankfully offered you a larger shade, as if to apologise for its earlier abuse. Sitting, you brought the canteena to your lips, gulping down the refreshing water. In your grogginess, you vaguely noticed it had been refilled.

“Enjoy your siesta, hermosa?” You looked beside you to Javier sitting on his bedroll with his map open in front of him, watching you with a fond smile.

“Yeah, thanks for the water,” you raised your bottle towards him. “Guess the heat got to me.”

Javier hummed lightheartedly, “Don’t worry about it, we can’t all be blessed with my sun-tolerance.”

“Hah! I’d like to see you try snow-tolerance,” you thought back to your childhood on the east coast. “Bet you wouldn’t have made it to noon.”

“Good luck getting me anywhere past West Elizabeth. Speaking of which,” he pulled the map closer to you, “I’ve drawn out our route for tomorrow, what do you think?” He looked up and paused at your confused expression, “Cariño?”

The last thing you really remembered was the way Javier was looking at you, his smirk, his suggestion at doing a job together-

“Oh!” He smiled as your memory came back, the fog from the heat stroke disappearing. John had followed the lead of a banking coach crossing West Elizabeth once a month. Some other job had taken John’s attention, so Javier had volunteered to follow up on it. The invitation of three days alone with Javier was too tempting - so did a few days out of the New Austin sun. “Yes! The bak thing in West- yeah! I remember. When’re we going?”

“Careful hermosa, you might get faint again,” his sultry voice teased, flashing a toothy grin. “I reckon we leave first thing: we can get to Blackwater, stake out the roads, find a place to, ahhh, bunk down for the night,” he traced a long finger along the road he had drawn on his map. His suggestive wording was paired with a subtle glance at you, pleased to see you looked as excited as him. “Next day, we hit the coach. Hide out as usual, be back the day after. Hopefully,” he added dryly.

“Hopefully,” you repeated. “You know if Blackwater has a hotel? Or are we, uh, roughing it?” The innuendoes could pass as a poor choice of words for eavesdropping ears, but all they did was fuel the fire that was building up between the two of you.

“Don’t worry about it, hermosa,” he reassured you with a dark laugh, “I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

This is my first upload for RDR so please please let me know if you have any feedback ! Any and all comments are appreciated ♡ Porn is coming in Part 2, then we'll be meeting Charles, so I hope you hang around for a bit ! Thanks for reading, enjoy xoxo

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #charles smith #javier escuella #javier x reader #charles x reader #javier x charles x reader #rdr2 smut #javier x reader smut #charles x reader smut #javier x charles x reader smut

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