#welcome to escuella’s | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

millieisawriter · 3 months ago

Text

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.

part 2 javier's version

part 2 charles' version

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.

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.

“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.”

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.”

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

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

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’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.

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

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

373 notes · View notes

frillydolle · 11 days ago

Note

HI your Javier works are always so gooddddd

I’ve been having Javier brain rot recently specifically when he first joins the gang and barely speaks any English

(But he starts crushing and trying his best to speak to us cause we’re so sexy and hot obviously)

꒰ ୨ৎ ꒱　 ──󠀠󠀠　 you know basic spainish 　 it's 1895　 j.e ౨ৎ ⋆ ｡ ˚

another bright sunny morning within camp, the light sounds of chatting and members beginning their day, a nice little gang, it always has been. although, you did often dream about the day you'd see your own wanted poster, it was a nice thing to think about but really? your aim wasn't that good, unless your weapon was a knife, you had a talent of those, and.. that's, it.

you came around the same time another man fell in with the gang. javier escuella?... you think his name is? he was a little scared and rightly so since... you and the other members didn't understand him well. he spoke spanish and you did not although you did your best to teach him so. he seemed kind and you wanted to let him know that he's gonna be okay in this gang. you were just the sweet, empathetic girl that decided to help him out since you knew... a little bit yourself.

it started with the basics, a journal that hosea let you use, and the journal that javier keeps to practice his english with.

“this is how are you, like asking someone if they're okay. how.. are.. you, and this means ... como estoy?” you say, reading off of the journal. looking what you wrote, your handwriting might be maming it harder for him. you soon looked at him as you waited for his reply, only for him to look at you a little funny... he chuckled as he quickly understood what you tried to say.

“oh, cómo estás!.. how.. are you, no?” “thats right!”

after what felt like weeks, only because you wanted to be very sure that your teachings helped, even just a little! you wanted him to feel a little more welcome, being in a gang like this of majority where english speakers. he seemed like a sweet man, and you wanted him to be more comfortable, imaging how off-putting this could be for him.

“aye, [name]! how.. are you today?” “'m good! your english is gettin' better! im proud of you, javier.”

and soon, he started getting sweet on you. it started subtle, of course. lingering glances, soft brushes from his hand, leaning closer just to hear you better. only for you to notice but not think much of it. he practically had heart eyes every time you spoke to him, practically turning him into a lovesick teenager!

“ive noticed that you and john are getting along well, 'm proud of you!”

his eyes twinkled hearing the praise from you, he has came a long journey after all. from being a revolutionary in mexico to a terrifying man in an outlaw gang.

what a woman you are.

#🎀reqsೀ #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr #rdr2 #javier escuella rdr2 #javier escuella #javier escuella x you #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr fanfiction

82 notes · View notes

slicedmayonnaise · 1 year ago

Text

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

610 notes · View notes

grinnis · 8 months ago

Text

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

20 notes · View notes

livingdeadmlm · 2 months ago

Text

You Bring me Closer to God pt2

Pronouns: reader is referred to as a man

Physical Sex: AMAB

How far are things going?: no smut this chapter

Warnings: bit of shame, priest reader getting teased alot, everyone wants you!!

Outline: Kieran brings two friends for a morning meal, and unknown best to you each man quickly sets their eyes on you

What inspired me to write how I did: the crappy priest romance book I got lol

Other: Yes, I am making this a harem fic. Those were my favorite fics in 2016, but they fell off after a while, and I want them back!!!

Previous Part or Next Part

The rhythmic clinking of pots and pans echoed through the quiet streets, almost rousing the entire town from its slumber as you threw yourself into the art of cooking. The early morning light filtered through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow on the countertop piled high with fresh ingredients. You needed the biscuit dough with fervor, the soft smell of sugar and flour in the air.

At that moment, the sizzling sounds of the bacon cooking combined with the gentle shaking of the oven rack as the biscuits baked provided a welcome distraction from the resurfacing memories of your dream that threatened to invade your mind. Each sizzle from the stovetop seemed to drown out the night's memories.

Because it was so early, most of the other people in the congregation hadn't shown up and wouldn't for two hours, so a confused expression painted your face as the heavy church doors opened and shut, light voices whispering.

Adjusting your cooking apron, you exited the kitchen and saw Kieran accompanied by two men. “Good morning, gentlemen!” you said, wiping your hands on the canvas apron before reaching out to the new man on the left. He spoke softly, “Mornin’, I’m Charles Smith.” he replied, his voice low, almost gravelly, the word slow and deliberate.

His handshake was firm—too firm. As you briefly touched, his hand enveloped yours with confidence. You felt the roughness of his palm and the deep scars on both hands, with one hand seeming to have a burn mark. But it was his eyes that stopped you. His gaze was intense, deep, and unwavering as if he could see right through you. The weight of it made your breath hitch, and you found yourself caught, unable to look away.

The other man stepped forward, his presence quieter but no less striking. “Buenos días, señor.” You noted the subtle scars on his fingers, signs of a hand that had seen its share of work, but the wounds seemed to look like cuts. But it was the softness of his touch that left you breathless. His hands were so unexpectedly tender, the softest hand you’d ever felt that wasn’t attached to a woman.

“Ah! Bue… nos dias! La comida. " You took a moment to pause and try to remember your Spanish classes from school. “Estará lista pronto.” His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, a small, unintentional gesture that felt like a jolt to your chest.

Sure, your Spanish was very slow to get out and slightly off, but he understood what you were trying to say. A smile graced his lips. “I speak English too, Father. It's very nice of you to try, though.” Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, realizing the misstep, but it wasn’t just the mistake that left you flustered. It was the way his smile lingered, and his hand stayed a little longer in yours, “I’m Javier Escuella.”

“Well! Charles, Javier, and Kieran! Breakfast will be ready soon. I just put it in the oven. When it's done, you can grab it and go or join me at the kitchen table!” You spun on your heels, B-lining to the kitchen, nimble fingers toying with the crucifix around your neck that felt like it weighed a ton across your shoulders. Was this another test? Making you grapple with possible homosexuality and then throwing three very handsome men your way? How could God throw such temptation right in front of you?

You flipped the bacon in the pan: the golden-brown color and the sweet smell of biscuits filled the kitchen. Fresh eggs were on the counter, ready to be cooked in the bacon grease. The three men shuffled into the kitchen, sharing no words among themselves. You heard each of them pull out a chair and sit. You looked over your shoulder and smiled at each of them settling in.

“Living in a livestock town is great for fresh meat and eggs! Too bad it smells terrible out there,” you laughed, taking the bacon off the pan and gently shaking the extra fat before adding it to the pile you had already finished and putting that plate on the table.

“You men new to Valentine? I don’t think I’ve seen y’all around before!” You’d heard of new faces popping up around town from passing conversations you caught when there were church events. You pulled on a pair of oven mitts and glanced over at the men. Kieran’s gaze flickered briefly over your figure, his eyes lingering just a bit too long before he looked away.

Charles, always the quiet one, seemed distracted by the decor on the walls. His gaze skimmed over photos of past church members and the occasional framed painting. But Javier– Javier’s eyes were fixed on you. His intense stare followed every movement you made; you couldn’t determine his feelings. His dark eyes swirled with such an intensity.

“It’s just an extended stay,” Charles spoke, his voice steady, but you caught the subtle way his eyes strayed back to you, though he quickly masked it. “Yeah, we’re just passing through,” Javier’s raspy voice followed, rich and low, sending a jolt through you as you placed the hot pan in the center of the table. “Well, while you’re here, I’ll make sure you’re well-fed,” you offered with a smile. "No need to come to mass or anything." You turned to close the oven door, but as you did, you didn’t feel the weight of three pairs of eyes on you, each gaze landing right on your ass.

“I’d like to hear more about this town,” Javier said, his voice steady as he leaned forward, his eyes still fixed on you. "We don’t know much about it yet—other than the… livestock." He chuckled softly, and you couldn’t help but smile. People didn’t often visit the church outside of using the confessional booth on Sunday mornings or Wednesdays. “Well, there’s not much to it, really,” you said, facing him. "It’s small but rowdy. Just a week or so ago, there was this huge bar fight. I heard it over here.” Your voice held a worried tone as you recalled the yelling. You cracked two eggs into the skillet, and the oil popped slightly.

“Drinking is a strong vice; it makes people lose sense. But being down the road from it is not the worst. I like to think it's peaceful in the church.” You flipped the eggs, adding two more to the pan. Grabbing a plate, sprinkling salt and pepper, you placed the two cooked eggs on it. You put the first plate in front of Kieran. “Thank you for the food, Father (name)!” Kieran quickly dug in as Charles's plate was placed before him. Javier's plate promptly followed. Charles took a biscuit and made a small sandwich with egg and bacon. “Oh! That's very smart, Charles. You are a wise man!” You made your small sandwich, a grin across your face.

“You cook like this often?” Charles asked, taking a bite from his sandwich. You stiffened slightly, worried if everything had tasted bad or was overcooked. “Every day, I do breakfast and dinner; I hope you’re asking to come by more often and not because it's foul?” you laughed, trying to make light of it, but your smile faltered slightly. Your stomach is already twisted in ways you couldn’t explain, but to add the layer that your food was bad? Your stomach felt tight. “No, Father (Name), it's perfectly fine, very good food."

Javier leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’d make a good wife. Why aren’t you married?” he said, toned low and teasing. His voice was undeniably warm, and it made your skin flush. Javier shifted in his seat, his knee brushing against yours just slightly. The contact was subtle, but it sent a warmth flooding through you, making your breath hitch momentarily. You forced yourself to focus on the biscuit sandwich in your hand.

“Other than the fact that I am a man?” you said, trying to maintain your composure, though your voice trembled slightly. “I was young when I vowed chastity. I never was much into relationships. My relationship with God and friends has always taken up that space… at least, I like to think so.” You laughed weakly, hoping the words lighten enough to mask your uncertainty.

“You can’t miss what you’ve never had,” you said, trying to deflect, hoping to ease the weight of the question that had made your chest tighten. Each man’s mind seemed to race, caught somewhere between curiosity and something more, something deeper that you couldn’t quite name. “Never?” Charles chimed in, his voice a touch incredulous. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table as he studied you. “Like never at all? Never a fling or a kiss?" You swallowed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you finished the last bite of your biscuit sandwich, using the moment to avoid the pressure of their eyes on you. You wiped your mouth with a napkin, trying to act casual, but you could feel your pulse quicken, the room shrinking around you.

“Nope, Mister Smith,” you said with a playful edge, trying to lighten the mood, though you could hear your voice tremor. “I didn’t have a rebellious phase or anything.” Kieran, quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke up, his voice gentle: “You’re quite a good-looking man. Have girls never fallen over themselves for you?” Laughing, you shook your head. “Nope, my brothers always got those confessions in our neighborhood. I focused on playing and getting better at games to beat them.” Each man chuckled, finishing up his meal.

“You’re a strong man, Father (Name). If I had your looks, I’d be a friend of every lady.” Kieran had a big grin across his face, eating some leftover bacon. Charles stood and took everyone's plate, placing each in the sink before washing them. “Oh, Mister Smith! You don’t have to! Please, you are a guest.” You stood holding out your hand, and he softly brushed away. “You took the time to make food for those in need; the least we can do is wash the dishes, especially because we’ll return for dinner."

You felt a pair of hands pull you backward from your hips, “Well, don’t make us all look bad, Charles; we will help too, Father. You go sit down and rest.” Your skin continued to burn as Javier's hands lingered, “Well, if you men insist, I will find chores elsewhere; please let me know when you plan to head out! Dinner is at 7; bring any other friends you may have!”

You shuffled out of the kitchen, giving Kieran a smile as your mind went into a panic. You would take this time to wash your sheet and maybe have a dip in the nearby river, as the cool water would help you calm down a bit before they come back later.

#male reader #x male reader #m!reader #javier escuella x male reader #charles smith x reader #Charles smith x male reader #red dead redemption x male reader #rdr2 x male reader #Kieran Duffy x male reader #I miss old harem fics #UNREALISTIC!!

108 notes · View notes

cowboyfromh3ll · 1 year ago

Note

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

477 notes · View notes