#john marston x reader imagine

[reddeaddamnation]

Imagine: Going on a heist with John Marston

Genre: Fluff

Warning: Other than a long post, I can’t think of any more

“We can either go about 2 ways.“ you explained to John, watching the old giant plantation Dutch sent you to rob 2 days ago from a hill, far enough to not be spotted. The house stuck out like a sore thumb in the wilderness, far up in the north. Some kind of old hillbilly rich folk inhabited the place once, so in debt they didn’t own a penny to smile, but the old man held onto the treasure like a dragon, even if by now it didn’t belong to him anymore. His kids and grandchildren long since left the estate, seeing no hope in staying there and being pursued by the bank, but the old man stayed, shooting off any intruder to protect his legacy...but now that that legacy left him, he had fallen into despair and was willing to sell. Micah had explained that he was sitting on piles of ancient plantation gold, ready for the taking. You didn’t believe him for a second. His head was always in the clouds, living with imaginary riches in every house he comes across. And Dutch sent you to do the dirty work, of course.

“We either shoot our way in or...“ you followed up, but John cut you off. “I have a plan. Follow me.“ he drove his horse downhill towards the house “Trust me, it’s better than wandering around inside and wasting time.“ you stared at him with a raised brow. John? An idea? Where could this lead? “Alright...“ you shrugged and followed him. The giant garden was overgrown and unkept. Thorny and dying hedges and bushes littered the dry earth, weeds were growing all around them. The house looked in prime condition tho, at least as much as time let it be. You dismounted and hitched your horses on a nearby fence and proceeded on foot. The old man inside saw you coming and burst through the door with a shotgun in hand, aimed at you. Immediately John raised his hands in a position that shows he doesn’t mean harm and you followed his lead, even if your initial instinct was to shoot the bastard dead.

“Excuse me, sir, we don’t mean to bother you.“ John started talking calmly “I’m Jim Winters. This is my wife Betty. We’re newlyweds from down south.“ Wife? You tried to play along and not throw him any looks, but your blushing face was a giveaway, if it wasn’t for your clothes that weren’t very...typical wife style. Thank god the man was as dense as he was grumpy. “Wha’ye doin’ in these parts?“ he slurred drunkenly with a gruff voice. “We’re just looking to buy property. We’re ranchers by trade, wanting to start our own one day.“ John continued lying “Heard about this place from town that you might be interested in selling.“ The old man eyed the pair of you suspiciously for a few moments, before lowering his gun. “You got the money?“ he asked. “We sure do. Ten thousand dollars in cash, ready to be invested if we see it worthy for investing.“ John smirked, seeing his eyes flash and go wide with excitement at the sound of the sum.

“Well...uh...excuse my...lack of hospitality.“ he chuckled awkwardly “Ye always gotta be on edge around here. Never know what’s lurkin’ in them woods.“ he cleared his throat worriedly, hoping his words won’t scare away the potential buyers “I mean...there was never any need to shoot, but an old man livin’ alone out ‘ere...hehe...gotta protect meself ‘owever I can.“ he put the gun away and slowly went down the stairs towards you. You lowered your hands at ease. “I understand, sir. No harm in protecting your property.“ John chuckled “Like you said, you never know.“ The two shook hands “Jedediah Stone“ he introduced himself. You received only a judgmental look. “Not very fitting clothes for a lady, mr. Winters.“ the old creep commented, talking to John as if you were a cattle which couldn’t understand. “I would love to see you ride a horse in a dress, mr. Stone.“ you challenged, balling up your fists behind your back. “I liked you better when you let the men talk, woman.“ You were ready to lash out at him and tell him that you know now why his family left him, but John quickly intervened “So...mr. Stone, I suggest we go inside to have a look around, if you will have us.“

With a nod, Jedediah lead you inside, revealing the enormous entryway, leading up to stairs to the second floor. There were 3 rooms on each side of the ground floor with decorative cupboards with silver platters and hunting trophies above them. You wondered what could be inside the drawers, as you followed him from room to room. It surely didn’t lack decorations of the expensive kind. Photos littered the walls and cabinets of the whole family together - inbred hillbillies with angry expressions, armed to the teeth, guarding their prized plantation. You were scanning the area, taking notice of anything shiny and the body language of old mr. Stone - where he stood, if he was trying to hide something, where his eyes wandered. A couple of brass statuettes, some silverware, an interesting looking gun, some nick-knacks... John held you under the arm the entire time, making sure to keep the act going. The old man was explaining the history of the house and everything a buyer would be interested in. 

In the master bedroom, your eyes landed on a rather large jewelry box on display right across from the bed on a wide wardrobe. More photos. Gosh, how self centered are these people? “Your wife looks rather interested in the bedroom, mr. Winters.” Jedediah’s judgmental voice caught you off guard, making you immediately stop looking around. “I...uh...love what you’ve done with the place.” you smiled awkwardly. “She was always a fan of the finer things in life.” John added jokingly, trying to lighten up his reemerging suspicion. “Hmpf.” Stone looked away from you, his attention returning to the old photos behind a glass cupboard. You nudged John in the ribs, nodding your head towards the jewelry box. He took the signal. “So, mr. Stone, may I have a look around the plot? My wife was really excited about the plot, you understand. She’s looking forward to gardening and all that.” Your host raised an eyebrow, but agreed walking towards the door “Anything for the ol’ ball and chain, huh, son?” he muttered. What was his problem? If his marriage was a failure doesn’t mean everyone else has to be miserable...even if you and John weren’t really married. You couldn’t wait to rob him blind and get out of here. “Gotta keep her happy, mr. Stone.” John answered “It’s why I married her.”

On your way downstairs, you pretended to feel lightheaded and faint, falling down the last three stairs, much to the old man’s disdain. John immediately went to your rescue to help you up, as you held your head. “Are you okay, darling?” John asked, holding you by the waist. “I-I’m sorry, I...I suppose the heat got to me after riding all day. I feel lightheaded.” you lied, looking at the old man’s annoyed face “May I lay down while you do your business, gentlemen?” John lead you to the living room, helping you sit down on the couch. “Keep him outside for as long as you can.” you whispered to him, before he left. “You seem a little soft, mr. Winters, letting your wife boss you around.” the old man’s voice came to you as a mutter “You have to take control or you won’t have a say in anything before you know it.” John sounded clearly uncomfortable “Ah...I’ll...keep that in mind...”

You waited for the outside door to shut before you jumped off the couch and got to work, snatching up anything small and shiny from the drawers and cupboards and putting it in your bag. After scouring the first floor rooms, you went upstairs to steal the crown jewel - the jewelry box. You opened it, revealing a pile of silver and gold necklaces, earrings, bracelets and rings with valuable stones. Your eyes shone with excitement. You started grabbing inside, filling your hand with the valuables and stuffing them in your shirt, since there was no space left in your bag, which weighed heavy on your shoulder. Whenever his wife left him, she was sure in a hurry, since she left all her things behind. After emptying the contents of the box, you looked around for anything else, thinking one more score wouldn’t hurt. You looked out the window in search for John and found him, bored out of his mind, wandering around the overgrown land while the host was explaining something rather heatedly, judging by his gesticulations. You went back to work, looking through every chest and drawer left in the other rooms, filling your pockets and chest with whatever stroke you fancy - silver, gold and platinum watches, belts, bullets and anything of the such. You reached into the fireplace, pulling out a stack of dollars, just as a loud voice startled you, making you turn around immediately.

“Betty, darling! We’re back.“ John yelled, signaling that they are coming inside. You rushed down the corridor and towards the stairs, smiling at them as the two men walked through the front door. “Excuse me, I was just looking for a bathroom to freshen up.“ you explained, calmly walking downstairs. “You better not stole something, lady.“ the old man scolded, eyeing you. “Why, I never!“ you huffed loudly, hand to your chest in an offended manner “I have been putting up with your comments all day, mr. Stone and I promise you, it will be bad for our business.“ you rushed past them hurriedly, trying not to draw any attention to your stuffed bag and clothes “Calling me a thief above everything! The nerve! We’re leaving, Jim! I wouldn’t throw a dime in this dump, even if it was the last godforsaken plot in the asscrack of America!” The old man was left shocked, mouth hanging open. “You watch your tone when talking to me, wench!“ John followed you, but stopped after taking three large steps. He turned around and punched old mr. Stone right in the face, knocking him out on the spot “Don’t you dare talk to my woman like that, you miserable old bastard!“

You stopped and turned around to look at him. “John...” you blushed and giggled nervously “There’s...really no need to keep this up anymore, you knocked him out.” John was startled, staring at you with his mouth hanging open, but no sound coming out. He was blushing. “I...uh...” he stuttered “Listen, Y/N...” you cut him off, with a devilish smirk, walking past him “I forgot something. Hang on.” John followed you into the living room where you were trying to reach the fancy old-fashioned pistol, hanging on the wall. “Y/N, listen.” John repeated “Not now, John.” you were clearly struggling to reach the height. John sighed and reached up to remove it from the stand and gave it to you. “Ah, thanks.” you smiled “For the trouble.” you joked and walked towards the door with John following you. “Anything good?” John asked. “You bet. Guess old Micah was right for once. We got at least a good four thousand in goods and cash.” you gleamed, skipping ahead towards your horse “I couldn’t stand another minute in that bastard’s presence. You did right knocking him out. Don’t know if that was part of the plan, tho...” John was silent the whole time “How did you come up with that? Sure there was less bloodshed and all that but newlywed ranchers?” you scoffed at him jokingly. “Well, I figured there would be less gunshots that could attract attention, so keeping low out in the open seemed original.” John was blushing and rubbing the back of his neck.

You reached the hitched horses. Reaching into your shirt, you pulled out the stack of cash, dividing it as evenly as you could and giving him half. His hand brushed against yours as he took it, making you both blush. “So, uh...listen, Y/N...” John started, avoiding your gaze. “Let’s get away from here and I’ll give you half of the loot too.” you quickly turned around, avoiding the topic he wanted to start. You swore you’d never see him as anything other than a business partner, even going to great lengths to avoid him at camp, unless you were forced to do a job together, which you tried your best to stay away from by keeping yourself busy at all times with someone else from camp. It’s not like you had bad feelings...quite the opposite actually. You were very much fond of him and his character. You just didn’t want any trouble around camp by making someone suspect your feelings for him. 

Ever since one drunken incident with Micah, the boys around camp had been teasing you and John to get together, while the girls either side eyed you or looked at you with pity. Dutch has been especially disapproving and harsh since then and when Abigail wasn’t making snarky comments whenever you tried to talk to her, she went off about how she didn’t care. The scenario was that one evening when everyone was drunk out of their minds back at camp, Micah tried cornering you behind some trees and made rather poor and unwanted advances. You were just about ready to beat the hell out of him, until John suddenly came out of nowhere, lashing out at him and punching him square in the jaw. The others were shook. Sean was first to start laughing and teasing how he was in love with you, while you tried explaining that he was just defending your honor and nothing else. Karen and Mary-Beth were really the only ones who shrugged it off and told you “Don’t listen to those children. Love doesn’t pick and choose.” Since then it was hopeless. Everybody knew why you were avoiding him.

You rode back to your temporary camp up in the hills in silence. John only broke it when you were finished unpacking the stolen goods. “Listen, Y/N, I think it’s time we have a talk.” your heart dropped and you froze in place. “John...” you looked at him, sighing tiredly. But he didn’t let you finish. He pulled you close and kissed you passionately, leaving you breathless. “I know you’ve been distant since what happened with Micah, but I don’t care about what anyone thinks. I’m a man who stands behind his word and I’ll always protect your honor because I love you. Even if you don’t want me, I’ll still be behind you when you need me.” You blinked at him for a minute, speechless “When that old creep was making those comments, I just wanted to shoot him dead until he was an unrecognizable corpse. I won’t allow anyone to talk bad about you, I swore to myself and to you.” he avoided your eyes, looking away as if ready to tear up. “Honestly, when I called you my wife, there was nothing in this world I wouldn’t give to say that and mean it. To make it real... and...who knows, maybe one day we actually can be newlywed ranchers.” he chuckled nervously, looking away. “I have way too many things to say.” you answered quietly. “Good or bad?” he joked nervously. You felt his heart pounding in his chest. You gave him a light peck on the cheek. “Does that answer your question?” you joked back with a smile. “You’re dangerous, little lady.” he smirked.

“Who goes there?“ Sean yelled threateningly as you rode into the gang camp’s ground. Great. He’s on guard duty. “John and Y/N!“ John yelled back. “Oh. Did you have fun on your little getaway?“ Sean teased, letting you through. “It wasn’t a getaway, you idiot!“ you barked “We bring a fortune you never even dreamed of getting your hands on.“ Sean whistled. “Is there a ring you saved for the lass somewhere in that fortune, eh, Marston?“ John ignored him. Whatever happened in those hills stays in those hills, but the 50$ John sacrificed from his share to give you one of the nice necklaces was still hidden beneath your clothes, away from prying eyes.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead 2 #red dead redemption #John Marston #john marston imagine #john marston x reader #john marston x reader imagine

[the-great-pretender02]

Slowly subscribing to the theory that John is blind in that eye or at least semi blind, I never noticed how bad it really looked. This shot is so good 😭

#rdr #rdr2 #red dead fandom #red dead photo mode #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #red dead redemption screenshots #video games #red dead redemption community #red dead community #red dead redemption john #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption photography #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption edit #red dead #red dead redemption x reader

[ahqkas]

HEART TO HEART ; arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuela, charles smith

SYNOPSIS! how love feels like with him

In the vast expanse of the Wild West, loving ARTHUR MORGAN feels like a journey of ragged battles, a tale woven with threats of wounds and roughness that winds through the wild landscapes and starlit nights. To love Arthur is to stand by his side through the hardship of his outlaw life, to not be afraid of being hurt and to cherish the moments you’ve got to be blessed with.

Affection with Arthur doesn’t come easy, but is expressed through simple actions amidst the clash of your worlds. The reassuring touch of his hands against your shoulders that lingers to the skin of your fingertips. The warmth of his gaze that follows you anywhere you go, casting a light of protection over your body and soul. The genuine smile he gives you over a game of blackjack beneath you or a flickering campfire that’s between you two, the smile only you seem to receive.

Arthur cares fiercely and if you were to end up hurt by someone’s hands under his watch, it’d be over his dead body.

Love with JOHN MARSTON comes roughly at first but despite his stubborn nature, he truly loves you through thin and thick. He’s all teeth and claws whenever there’s a sign of danger near his loved ones. He’s not a flawless man, no. Stubborn and impulsive, that’s what he is at most, yet courage and loyalty bloom in his heart.

The outlaw consistently puts himself into harm’s way to ensure your safety and well-being. Although he often doubts himself on this one, he won’t give up without a fight.

To love John is to accept his soul and believe that whenever action he makes it’s for the best.

Like the unpredictable beat of hooves on a dusty road, love with JAVIER ESCUELLA puts you both through a rocky story, as dramatic as promised. The horse can be agitated, its hooves urgent. But the horse can be calm, its hooves steady. Javier’s love comes determined.

A sanctuary is a place of refuge or safety where people can retreat to find peace, reflection, and protection, whenever it’s within the reach of a physical space or within their own consciousness. His care is your sanctuary, sheltering you from the outside’s wrath. He brings out the good in you and your mind feels at ease whenever he warms up your heart.

Javier’s love speaks volume, a language specifically made to become understood by you only. Warm hugs, a gentle caress of your cheek, intertwined fingers. It’s non verbal, but you understand it all too well. Carrying your stuff, saving some of the warm stew for you, cleaning your weapons. You don’t need words to communicate.

A blooming flower with its unfolding petals brings out the same feeling in you as the love of CHARLES SMITH. Like the flower, your love with Charles went through the same process of growth and now you’re left cherishing the outcome of the nature. Every petal shows a page of depth, intimacy, and connection you feel between you.

His empathy and understanding makes him a safe haven for you, the comfort that hangs to him calls for you one too many times. He listens without judgment and offers kindness.

Charles goes out of his way to help you out in any situation, whether it’s by taking care of you after a rather close call or stash a dozen of poisoned arrows to your bunch, always lending you a protective hand.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan headcanons #john marston x reader #john marston x you #john marston imagine #john marston headcanons #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella x you #javier escuella headcanons #charles smith x reader #charles smith x you #charles smith headcanons #rdr2 #rdr2 x you #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2

[tuxebo]

What do you think of John marston?

he's hot, that's about it (pretending i didn't just write this whole thing abt him.) while i've read that he gets better over time, i'm yet to see it so i have mixed feelings on him. he's not a good father, not a good friend, not a good husband. let's be real here, he wouldn't make a good partner unless he fell in love before joining the gang.

john marston who wasn't completely alone before dutch saved his tail from getting hung. there was this poor baker and his wife, they had a kid, you. you weren't wealthy folk, no, but you always brought john dinner or shared yours. it wasn't large portions, but enough to keep him from dying of hunger.

you first met him when you caught him trying to steal from the bakery, rather than telling your parents you just handed him to bread. you had a mini picnic on the bakery's front porch, you talking his ears off was more than enough payment for the food.

you brought him food a couple more times, talking about yourself while he ate in silence, eventually he opened up and started engaging in the conversations you started. he never told you much about himself, other than the orphanage you could find him at. he showed you which window was his and that you only need to toss a pebble at it to get his attention.

as time passed, john became more and more of a no b.s. little boys. the kind of little boy that got himself killed or in a gang, as your daddy said. he didn't put up with anyone messing with you, in that respect he got more aggressive with your bullies, but never with you. you taught him things you learned from your mother as she was your teacher, some of it didn't stick but you tried.

inevitably, john disappeared. he was either dead in a ditch or in a gang, your dad didn't mention a third possibility but you liked to believe he'd been adopted by a nice family and that you'd see him again. you were only about 11 years old and he was 12, it wasn't shocking for you to have such enthusiasm.

life continued as usual for about three decades. you never married, business was going well after your parents died and suddenly you had one too many responsibilities on your plate for any of that. the world was becoming more and more industrialized by the day, you wouldn't even recognize it to what it once was when you were a kid. the only place that felt like home was your bakery, which is part of the reason it was doing so well, the nostalgia.

having had been in the business for so long, you were no stranger to thieves ─ you even caught one before you were double digits. one a particularly slow morning, the grey clouds settling in as you prepared for rain, a quiet hum caught your attention.

stepping out from the back, you caught a young man staring down your trays of different breads. he wasn't quiet at all, practically begging to be caught. you smiled, planning on just giving some to him anyway, but the look he gave you rendered you speechless from deja vu. same type of bread, same guilty smile, same brown eyes, same thinking hum.

"aw c'mon, son ─ jus' had to be this one of all the damn shops on the block," a man swore, the same way your dad did when he read about some young-ins doing stupid stuff in the paper. the voice was familiar, deeper as it had been many years now, but before you was john marston and another younger john marston.

since leaving the gang and his son's mother, john marston was a changed man. finally able to pay you back for all the bread and the bread his boy tried to steal. this time he gave you a proper picnic, in the large yard on his property. he set up under on of his sycamore trees, just like you had described three decades ago.

john marston may not have been adopted by some nice family nor was he always a nice man, but he was ready to become one for his son and you.

#౨ৎ⋆ anne’s chronicles ˚｡⋆ #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #john marston #john marston x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fluff #rdr2 fluff #john marston fluff #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 imagine

[azul-marie]

little habits of love.

fem. reader feat. arthur, charles, javier, sean, john

arthur —

drawings to amuse.

his artistry is unknown to many but you, and perhaps little jack for all his curiosity. arthur is a private, sentimental man, all his thoughts collecting and manifesting across the pulp of his journal’s pages. but if you ask, even just to tease, you’ll no sooner receive a carefully folded gift of a drawing of something you mentioned to him before — a flower, a wild turkey’s feather, even a sleeping portrait of charles. some are detailed and thoughtful, shadows and light captured alike, while others are messy little scrawls drawn from boredom, of long trips back campward all alone. arthur says nothing of these gifts of his. the only thanks he needs is the way you grin up at him, the way you press those pages between ones of your own.

charles —

blocking sunny rays from a pretty face.

his statue is much discussed, height and build and all, strength seeping through the cloth of his clothing. charles is accustomed to being the tallest, the largest man in the room, save for a mr. arthur morgan. yet it still comes times his body serves for a purpose other than hurt, than suffering — times when the summer sun is high up above the clouds, its rays piercing your eyes, twisting that lovely face of yours into a grimace. he is not aware of when this habit began. charles knew only to spare you from this bother, by standing behind or besides you to give you a slice of shade while you worked. when you notice, the way you fawn so sweetly warms his heart, though he’ll only brush it off as the right thing to do. if it’s for you, it’s always right.

javier —

hands and arms at your beck and call.

he is a gentlemen, posh and proud in his own right. although the two of you live this life of freedom and criminality, javier never forgets to treat you like the loveliest lady you are. on riverbank walks, he’ll cross your elbows together to keep you warm and close. he insists on his hands on your waist whilst helping you dismount your horse. no matter the length of stairs ahead of you, his hand is always outstretched for you to steady yourself on the way down. before you need it, javier’s holding whatever it is out for you to pluck from his grasp, always anticipating your every move. he insists it is the compatibility between you both, how in tune you’ve grown to be. loyalty is his name, and he’s given it to you.

sean —

a quiet vulnerability.

his boisterous, cheeky camaraderie is unmatched by any other in the gang. sean is, at once, the joy and annoyance of every one person’s heart, despite their saying otherwise. but rarely, rarer than double-crossed rainbows or a sober camp party, sean falls silent. it is the type of silence that comes with trust, and a side of love; it is the kind that belongs only to you. where his head rests upon your lap, on your shoulder, your bosom, eyes closed in thoughtful quiet. where he soaks up your whispered words and gentle touches, wanting nothing more than his world enveloped by you. it never lasts long, for sean is too adamant of his feelings to go on without showering you in some sort of affection — but this quiet, his quiet, speaks volumes on his behalf.

john —

senses, touch, only for you.

during the wolf attack, it was all teeth and scapes and blood left behind to mark him. and after, it was pairs of hands after hands, touching his face, his battered body, until the day he finally healed enough to walk. john, plenty touch-starved before, now flinches and flicks off unwanted hands or legs or shoulders when he feels them getting too close. but you are never too close, no, never close enough. perhaps it is the shy of the soul that doesn’t allow him to admit aloud; whereas he snaps and growls at the others, it is by your hand he calms, whether it’s a stroke of his head or a caress of his cheek. it is a trust deeply connecting, said without words. john knows no hurt when it comes from you.

#arthur morgan #charles smith #javier escuella #sean macguire #john marston #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 imagines #rdr2 imagines #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #charles smith x reader #javier escuella x reader #sean macguire x reader #john marston x reader #losing my mind over some yeehaw cowboys rn #my boys…mis vaqueritos… #they literally. all i can think about #paralive…jjba…re…i’m so sorry i’m Lacking #javier + charles have such a bad chokehold on me!!!!!!! i’m a little embarrassed 👉🏼👈🏼 #kicking my legs twirling my hair type way

[vanderlesbian]

rdr2 x autistic reader headcanons

saw someone else do this but i wanted to give my headcanons too! enjoy tehe... includes arthur, john, dutch, and charles!

gn!reader + no warnings / fluff

arthur morgan

arthur is so patient and understanding with you

from the moment you met him, you never felt the need to mask around him because he never questioned your behaviors or belittled you for them

if any problems ever arised, arthur would always be quick to come to your defense

hes very careful with you; he handles you like he's holding a butterly. not because he thinks youre fragile or incapable, but because he cares for you too much and never wants to hurt you

he also knows that youre sensitive to things and will take mental notes

if he sees that you cover your ears when something loud happens, he'll be sure to be quiet around you

if you express that you don't like how a certain food feels, he'll start bringing other options along to make sure you're eating

he's not very good at being upfront with his emotions, and you can't always catch onto his hints which ends up with you being confused

but he's trying to break that habit

all in all he's a very understanding partner who prioritizes you above all

john marston

lets be real john is also autistic

youre both very understanding of each others needs and its nice to be able to completely be yourself around your partner

in a relationship he can be very touchy sometimes, but he can recognize when you dont want to be touched. if hes unsure, he'll ask

he will wait or ask for permission to do pretty much anything

"can i kiss you?" "can i hug you?" "is it alright if we hold hands?"

hes definitely awkward but he just needs the confirmation

he is veryyy blunt but to you its a good thing

it makes me feel like neither of you have to worry about if the other is beating around the bush or something because both of you say whats on your mind LOL

both of you are trying to figure out this relationship thing together

from an outside perspective, people might think the two of you are moving really slow, but for both of you its a perfect pace

dutch van der linde

dutch is your biggest fan when you start infodumping

he will listen to you speak about whatever for days on end, and you'll do the same with him as he talks about whatever philosophical tangent he has for the day

hes so infatuated with you its crazy

you will finish your infodumping tangent and he will scoop you up in his arms and go,"you're so beautiful/handsome, you know that?"

like oookaaayyy huhehehehehhehhshsh

he will SPOIL you with things related to your special interest. anything he sees that he knows you'll like, he'll snatch it up so quick to give it to you

he'll definitely boast about you to the other members

"they're so INTELLIGENT and HARD WORKING...perhaps the rest of you should take a note or two"

he lets you fidget with his fingers because you like his rings

he makes sure that your shared tent is perfectly up to your standards

the feeling of the blanket overwhelms you? suddenly hes sending arthur out to fetch a new one

he definitely pampers you a lot and sometimes it might feel suffocating at times but not bc you dislike it, you just need a moment to recharge

you'll tell him you need a moment to yourself and he'll oblige

charles smith

the two of you love parallel play omg

you two will be completely silent while he makes arrows and you partake in one of your hobbies but its so comforting to both of you

charles will always be the first to notice when you start to get overstimulated, so he'll tell the others to quiet down, give you space, or whatever else you need to calm yourself

hes kind of overprotective of you, so sometimes you'll have to reassure him that youre fine

he just cares about you more than anything

now that im thinking about it charles is also probably autistic

he's usually very quiet but with you he'll never shut up because he knows that you'll listen and show genuine interest

he will craft things for you to fidget with omfg

he'll notice that youre very antsy with your hands or legs and one day you'll come back to your tent and see a small handmade doll sitting on your bed

"did you make this for me?"

"i noticed you play with your fingers a lot"

he's genuinely the sweetest ever and he will just have heart eyes for you all the time

#first post hi #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #john marston #charles smith #hosea matthews #javier escuella #sean macguire #x reader #headcanon #headcanons #autistic #autism #imagine #fluff #gender neutral reader

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

Maybe I like Jovier because Javier is written as himself and not some ooc perfect, innocent, articulated version of himself that Javier x reader uses.

Maybe I just want to read / look at art of Javier and John being silly men who both kind of suck at flirting so they don’t flirt and instead show their love by just co-existing together and talking and laughing and drinking and looking out for each other ((and being doomed by the narrative)).

#meeks rambles #rdr2 javier #rdr2 #javier esquella #john marston #john rdr2 #rdr1 john #rdr1 #jovier #javier x reader #Javier x John #john x javier #shitpost #not saying imagining Javier as a smooth romantic is bad. to each their own #I personally feel it is ooc for my interpretation of him and wish there was more cringe fail Javier representation #‘he’s a cynic who pretends to be a romantic’ is ingrained in my head #idk wtf Javier and John hav going on but erm… I think they were out in nature and were alone together and explored each others body one time

[2dmenenthusiast]

"It's certainly Heaven if you're here, Darlin'."

(John Marston x Gn!Reader)

Holy shit it's finished!!! I literally started this fic back in MARCH. But you know what it's my longest fic ever and I'm proud of it. Also There is SMUT in this bad boy, so it might be ass, just a warning. But I hope ya'll enjoy!

ALSO Abigail is with everyone at the end but I genuinely forgot to add her lmaoo

Reblogs and feedback are always encouraged and appreciated!!

Summary: You're life with John was constantly filled with ups and downs. Hopefully you can both make it together in one piece.

Word Count: 12k

Warnings/other info: SMUT (if you want to skip it, it's right after John says I love you for the first time), description of injury, swearing, uhh Arthur and Kieran live because I said so, reader is gender nuetral as always.

“Hey, would you- ow!”

“Well stop flinching, ya fool!”

John sighed as you scolded him, lightly slapping at his chest before continuing to sew up the gashes on his face. He winced every time the needle pushed through his skin, the hand that rested on your knee squeezing every so often as he tried not to think about the pain.

“I’m almost finished,” you muttered, carefully pushing his soaked hair out of his face and rolling the needle between your thumb and finger a few times, making sure you had a good hold on it since your fingers felt numb from the cold. He watched you as you worked, eyes trained on the way your lips pressed together when you concentrated, your brows slightly furrowed. If he felt shitty before, he felt even more so now. He could deal with Abigail scolding him for being stupid, but he couldn’t take the worried look you had when his injured body was pulled off of Javier’s horse and into the house, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. But you didn’t cry. You turned to Jack and let him know his daddy was going to be okay, put on a brave face so his boy wouldn’t worry about his idiot of a father. You were… something else.

Gently lifting John’s head, you carefully wrapped gauze around his wounds once you finished stitching him up, making sure it was secure around his head. “Now, for the rest of our time up here, do you think you could possibly not get yourself into any more trouble?” you asked, resting your hand on John’s chest.

“‘Course, Darlin’. Don’t think I could manage to get up to much while I’m laying here.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d figure out a way.”

Your lips quirked up in a smile, a sight John loved to see, and he brought a hand up to rest it over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Think you could stay for a bit?”

You pursed your lips, pretending to think about it. “Well, considering we’re snowed in on top of a mountain, I don’t suppose there’s anything better for me to do.”

John scoffed, shaking his head and immediately regretting it. “Shut up.”

“You’re gonna have to make me, cowboy.” There was that teasing lilt to your voice that always had John’s heart racing, and if he weren’t bedridden at the moment, he’d kiss that smug look off your face.

“Oh, you best believe I will once I’m up and about again.”

You laughed, the sound like wind chimes in his ears. “Alright. I guess I’ll have to take you up on that.”

John let out a hum, and you pushed down on his shoulder when he tried to sit up from the bed to kiss you, an eyebrow raised in amusement. 

You’re hurt.

He just shrugged, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward.

I don’t care.

You shook your head with a smile as you leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his lips, being mindful of his injuries. Of course, you were oblivious to the prying eyes in the cabin that just watched the short unspoken exchange. Abigail smiled to herself and looked back at the fire.

Damn fool, she thought.

Your time in Horseshoe Overlook was finally starting to ignite some hope in you as the gang sang around the campfire to celebrate Sean’s return. Javier was strumming on his guitar, but you could barely hear it over the loud caterwauling of your friends. You laughed when the Irishman tripped over a nearby log as he drunkenly stumbled around, but the contents of his bottle was soon all over your shirt, and you let out a gasp when the cold liquid seeped through the fabric and touched your skin. Sean profusely apologized, slurred syllables coming out to try and form coherent sentences. You waved him off with a smile and told him not to worry about it. He was home, he should celebrate.

Standing from your seat, you left the warmth of the fire and walked over to your tent, a shiver rolling up your spine. A pair of arms were suddenly around your waist, and you let out a yelp when you were lifted from the ground and someone’s face was pressed into your shoulder.

“John!” Your hands quickly gripped his arms, fingers digging into the sleeves of his union suit as he set you down. He chuckled against your neck, his warm breath fanning over your skin before he let out a soft hum and tightened his arms around you.

“Where you been?”

“Uh, by the fire?”

Another hum, and you slightly tensed when his lips pressed against your neck before relaxing back into his chest.

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah well, Sean spilled his beer on me, I was gonna go get changed.”

Laying a few more kisses on your neck, John let go of you before grabbing your hand and leading you to your shared tent. Pulling back the flap, he let you in first and made sure to close the tent behind you both so you could undress without prying eyes, and you made quick work of unbuttoning your shirt, eager to get something warmer on. As you searched for something clean to wear, you sucked in sharply when you felt John’s rough hands on your shoulders, the noise devolving into a soft moan when he dug his thumbs into your tense muscles. His deft fingers made their way down your spine, memorizing every freckle and mole and mark like he hadn’t already done so a thousand other times. Once his hands reached your hips, he spun you around and hooked his fingers in the belt loops of your pants, pulling you close so you fell against his chest.

“Jeez, someone’s a little touchy when they’re drunk, hm?” you teased, hands coming up to push your fingers through his hair.

He leaned forward, his forehead gently knocking against yours. “Mm, well, when you look so lovely, how can I resist?”

You let out a chuckle, pushing at his chest. “Stop trying to be romantic, Marston. It doesn’t suit you.”

“M’serious.” There was a sudden stillness in the air as John pulled back to get a proper look at you, his hands coming up to cradle your jaw. “I think you’re… wonderful.”

Warmth blossomed in your chest and you smiled, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind his ear before pressing your lips to his uninjured cheek.

“Well, maybe romance is something you’re good at, cowboy.”

“Don’t know much about that. Just that it’s easier when it comes to you.”

“Wow. You know, I think that might be the sappiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts then, ‘cause you’re never gonna get to see me like this again.”

“Oh, I’m definitely keeping a tally.”

You yelped when John pinched your behind, and he promptly silenced you with a less than gentle kiss, his hand resting on the back of your neck as you looped your arms around his shoulders. He was all teeth and tongue as his nose clumsily knocked against your own, hands quickly wandering down and making quick work on unbuttoning your pants. You let out a sharp gasp into his mouth when his hand unceremoniously shoved down the front of your trousers, and he swallowed every desperate sound you made with eager lips.

“Fuck. John-”

"Woah! Guess this tent was occupied! You're a bloody animal, John Marston!"

John was quick to shield you from Sean and Karen, facing his back to them and using his body to hide your own. You let your head fall against his chest, your face heating up from embarrassment.

“Hey!- Would you get the hell outta here?!”

Sean whistled and wiggled his eyebrows, making light of the humiliating situation before grabbing Karen’s hand and stumbling off somewhere else so they could have their privacy after drunkenly invading yours. Once they were gone, you let out a groan and pushed away from John, grabbing the first clean shirt you saw and quickly slipping it on.

“I don’t even wanna think about what they were gonna do in our tent,” you muttered as you fastened the buttons.

John shrugged. “I imagine it was what we were about to do.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up your balled up, ruined shirt and throwing it at his face as you laughed. “Don’t think I’m so easy, Marston. Gonna take a lot more than your drunken confessions of love to get me in bed.”

“You say that like I haven’t done less to get you in bed.”

You pinned him with a stare, one that had John chuckling before he threw your shirt to the side and held out his hand. “C’mon.”

Letting out a sigh, you accepted his outstretched hand and let him drag you back to the festivities, leading you back to the fire where mostly everyone seemed to congregate. Sitting down, he pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as you hummed along to the familiar raunchy tune everyone was singing. But John wasn’t focussed on the song, he was focussed on you, watching you sing with a smile on your face, slightly swaying in his lap. He watched the way the fire danced in your eyes and listened to your lovely voice join in with the other’s. He swore that one day, it wouldn’t take being in a drunken stupor to have the courage to say those sappy confessions to you.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay to pull a job right now?”

“It’s just some cattle we’re gonna be handlin’. Not robbing a bank,” John said, pulling on his boots.

You stood a few feet away from him, brows furrowed in a worried expression as you fidgeted with your hands. “I know, it’s just… anything could happen. I mean, I know we need the money, and I’m just worrying, but everything’s just been so hectic lately and I-”

“Darlin’.”

You sighed, clenching and unclenching your hands before forcing your shoulders to relax. “Right, sorry. It’s fine. I know you’ll be fine.”

John wanted to smile at how much you seemed to fret over him. Ever since he got injured, it was rare to see you not by his side. He knew that was partially why you were so worried. The fact that he was going to do this job, and you weren’t going to be with him. But you knew that eventually he had to get himself back out there. He couldn’t be on bed rest forever. Dutch wouldn’t let him. But more so, he wouldn’t let himself.

“I’ll be back tonight, alright? I’m takin’ Arthur with me, so things should go smoothly.”

You scoffed. “Right, hopefully before one of you ends up putting a bullet in the other. The pair of you act like stubborn children when you’re around each other.”

John sighed, standing up from his cot before coming closer, running his hands up and down your arms to try and give you some comfort. “Listen, if I’m not back by sundown, you have all the right to holler at me about how dumb or reckless or inconsiderate I am, and whatever else you manage to come up with in the meantime, alright?”

“... You forgot stubborn.”

He just chuckled, his heart swelling with adoration for you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the way you worried about him. He placed a kiss against your hairline and gave your arms a squeeze before exiting his tent, you following after him. You watched as he mounted his horse and left camp, letting out a deep breath before walking over to Abigail’s tent. Jack was sitting on the ground next to her, playing with his wooden toys.

“That fool finally leave?” she asked, and you chuckled as you sat down next to her, leaning back on your hands.

“Yeah. I swear, Abigail, I don’t know how you put up with him as long as you did. He can be so… so-”

“Infuriating? Idiotic? Stupid? Shall I go on?”

You laughed, tilting your head and mindlessly watching her son play. “A combination of all of those things, I guess.”

Abigail just shrugged, looking at the pair of Jack’s pants in her hands and continuing to sew the hole in them. “Well, you think he’s bad now, he was even worse back then. A dumb fool when I had Jack. But I will say… he’s gotten better in the past few months.”

“Maybe. I’ve been hounding him about spending more time with his son. Not that it’s really my place but… I don’t know. I like what we are, and I like that you and I have a good relationship. I’d never forget that you and Jack are still his family and a part of his life. I’m just- I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.”

“Hold on now,” she set down the pair of pants, giving you her full attention, “has that idiot said something to make you feel like that?”

“Well… no. But I-”

“Darlin’, If you ever overstep, believe me, I will tell you if you are. You acknowledge that Jack and I are part of his life, well, I acknowledge that you’re part of his. And I-” She sighed, looking over at Jack for a moment as she pressed her lips together, thinking of what to say. “I’m glad that he has someone like you to kick him in the right direction when he starts down that stupid path of his. John and I, we made our peace a long time ago, and I wouldn’t put you in between any leftover nonsense we have. It’s mostly just about Jack now, anyways, and I can see that you care for the boy more than his own father does sometimes.” When she looked back at you, she reached over and placed a hand on your knee. “You’re good for him. And… I’m more than happy to realize the fact that you’re a part of this family, too.”

There were tears in your eyes when she finished speaking, her reassuring words wrapping around your heart and squeezing like a warm embrace. You could see what John saw in Abigail. She was beautiful and strong, didn’t take any nonsense from others. You were glad to call her your friend. Smiling, you reached up to wipe at your eyes, lightly sniffling.

“Wow, John was a real fool to let someone like you go,” you said, and Abigail laughed before continuing to sew up Jack’s pants.

“Believe me, if he does anything to screw up what you two have, he will not hear the end of it from me.”

Rage couldn’t possibly begin to describe the emotion bubbling up inside of you as you stormed through camp, fists clenched tightly at your sides and eyes sweeping over everyone, trying to find a specific face. You could see Micah coming towards you out of your peripherals, wearing that sleazy smirk on his face like your anger awoke something in him. Your lip tugged up in an almost snarl when he opened his mouth to speak, but you quickly rushed past him, making a point to ram your shoulder into his as you walked by. You didn’t have time nor the energy to deal with Micah’s bullshit antics right now. You already had one idiot cowboy to deal with.

“Marston!”

Heads shot up in your direction at your voice, hands pausing in their chores to try and get a proper listen at what was happening. You could hardly care about all that though when the lithe man you were looking for stepped out of the Shady Belle home, a brow raised in question as he came down the steps.

“Darlin’, you alright?”

You jerked back when John tried to reach out to touch you, raising a finger at him. “Don’t you pull that with me, right now. Don’t try and act dumb even if you’re a god damn master at it. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!”

There was a brief pause as his gaze made its way around the individual faces of the gang before eventually coming back to yours, like he would find the answer to your question in their expressions. “I… What are you talkin’ about?”

“Christ, Jack, you insufferable ass! You couldn’t be bothered to tell me he was gone?! You couldn’t find the time to slip that into casual conversation?!”

John got that look on his face that he always did when he started to put his guard up: that hard look in his eyes and his jaw set, shoulders squared as he deflected every word you threw at him. You fucking hated it. Hated that he was about to pull that bullshit tough act that he always did, especially with you.

“When the hell was I supposed to tell you? You’ve barely been at camp these past three days!”

“I was here all last night! You’re the one who’s been avoiding me, turning the other way whenever I try to even get close to you! I-” Tears of anger quickly welled up in your eyes, blinking a few times to try to keep them from falling. You didn’t catch the way John’s expression faltered for a moment. “I could’ve helped. The Braithwaite’s, I should’ve been there!”

John knew you were right. You were just as much family to Jack as the rest of the gang was, maybe even more so. He knew what you were saying made sense, and that you had every right to be upset. But nobody ever said John was able to see reason through his stubbornness.

“What does it matter, anyway? He’s not your child. You’re not his family! What concerns my family shouldn’t be any of your damn business!”

It felt as if you had been stabbed. Like he had carved a hole in your body where he could reach between your ribs and tear your heart out . Your breath hitched in your throat, a rogue tear quickly falling before you could make any effort to stop it. The camp around you stilled, the silence deafening as John’s words rang in your ears, and you sniffled, slowly nodding to yourself.

“Okay. If that’s how you see it… You don’t have to worry about me being in your business anymore.”

There was a brief moment where he just stared at you, a million thoughts echoing in his head, but by the time he opened his mouth to say anything, you were already gone, making your way back to your horse and riding out of camp. He watched your retreating figure until he couldn’t make you out anymore, letting out a sigh as he turned away, and he briefly caught the stares of everyone around camp before they all went about their own tasks, pretending as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened. 

Well, he supposed him making a fool out of himself wasn’t so unordinary after all.

***

“Come on, everyone! Let’s celebrate!”

There were cheers following Dutch’s exclamation, the gang gathering around the campfire and singing joyfully while Javier played a cheery tune on his guitar. You were glad Jack was back, glad that he was reunited with the people that loved and cared for him deeply.

You watched the celebration from afar, leaning against a tree as you observed everyone’s smiling faces. Of course, you wanted to join in, but everytime you gathered the courage to finally sit down with everyone, you would make out John’s face in the crowd and immediately sink in on yourself, his words from earlier repeating in your head.

His family was none of your business.

Despite those reassuring words Abigail said to you all those months ago, you wondered if you were ever part of their family. If John cared for you enough to even consider you as such. All those shared moments in private, whispered confessions between chaste kisses, the almost ‘I love you’s’ that were never said, but were conveyed through loving actions; did they mean anything to him? Were they just a forgetful blip in his life that he’d leave behind, along with any remnants of you?

The way he seemed to hold your entire world in his hands made you feel pathetic. How he hung the stars and moon, like you were some lovesick idiot who went sweet on a man who probably didn’t need you. You let him take your heart, something you once so preciously guarded behind stone walls that he managed to tear down with that dry wit and rebellious nature of his. What a fool you’ve been, to even think that there would ever be a future with a man such as John Marston.

“Hey.”

Snapping your head up, you cleared your throat and straightened your posture as Arthur made his way over to you, fingers lazily hooked into his belt. You felt tense as he leaned against the tree next to you, his shoulder grazing yours.

“Ya know, you don’t have to put on a brave face in front of me. I’ve known you long enough to know you’re fakin’ it.”

You sighed at his words, your body immediately slumping back against the tree as you let your body relax. “I’m uh, I’m guessing you heard that entire shit show at camp earlier?”

Arthur huffed. “Yeah, had to deal with the aftermath, too. Between getting Jack and figuring out how he was gonna apologize to you, that boy’s mind was a mess the entire ride there and back.”

You snorted, the idea of John being so distraught over you seeming almost unbelievable.

“Well, I bet most of that was because of his son. I can only imagine what he must’ve been going through.”

The quiet ambiance quickly filled the gaps in conversation, the singing from the gang combining with the loud chirping of the crickets. All it did was make you think. How could John not see that you cared for Jack too? That you’d give anything to see that boy safe and happy?

“You were right, you know. To be upset. Hell, I’m sure he’s heard enough from me and Abigail about how much of an idiot he’s been around you.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t have to do that. His son went missing, I can understand why he was acting that way, or why he said the things he did-”

“Doesn’t give him the right to take it out on you.”

“I pushed him, Arthur. He was going through something, and I got angry and made it all about me when I could’ve just talked to him after everything was said and done… this is my fault.”

“Hey,” Arthur turned to fully face you, leveling you with that stare of his that made you feel like a kid, “that boy is your family, too, and you had every right to worry about him. Don’t let what John said change that fact.”

Letting out a sigh, you leaned forward and rested your head against Arthur’s chest, feeling exhausted from the long day. He carefully wrapped his arms around you, a hand rubbing up and down your back.

“Thanks, Arthur.”

“Of course, kid.” There was a crunch in the grass, and you and Arthur looked up to see John slowly coming over to you. “Speak of the devil.” Pulling away, he gave your shoulder a reassuring pat and stared at John as he passed him, the younger man holding eye contact until he was out of his sight.

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked down at your mud covered boots as John got closer. When he cleared his throat, you didn’t look up at him. There was a sigh, and then-

“M’sorry.”

You slowly raised your head, taking in John’s appearance. He looked exhausted, the fact that his son went missing clearly weighing on him. But he seemed more relaxed that Jack was back, even though at the moment he looked like an anxious wreck in front of you. You remained silent as you watched him, and John shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, aren’t you gonna say anything?” he asked.

“Oh, no, I wanted to keep listening to this half-assed apology you’re trying to give me.”

John scoffed and shook his head. “C’mon. Don’t be like that.”

“Don't be like what, John?” you pushed off the tree, walking towards him, “Don’t act like what you said hurt me? Like I haven’t been thinking about it all day?” He opened his mouth to speak, but you raised your hand to stop him and sighed. “Listen, I- I know how I acted earlier was dumb. I should’ve just talked to you about it. But… I care about you, okay? And Jack and Abigail, I would do anything for them. I’d do anything for you. God, I’m such a damn fool for you, John, I feel silly just thinking about it. What you said earlier? I just- I wanna know if you meant it. If you really want me out of your business, if you don’t want me getting between you and your family, I’ll stop. And then we can end… whatever this is, if you want.”

John’s brows furrowed as he stepped closer to you, and you hoped he couldn’t see how tears were on the verge of slipping down your face at the mere thought of him not wanting to be with you anymore. You weren’t so lucky though, as John reached out to wipe away the tears that had gathered under your eyes. He hated seeing your cry, especially when he was the one that caused it.

“Darlin’, of course I don’t wanna stop this. I- shit, I’m sorry I even made you think of somethin’ like that. And I’m sorry I said all those horrible things to you today. None of it was true. You are family, and whatever happens to Jack is as much your concern as it is mine and Abigail’s. I’m sorry for saying it wasn’t. So,” he huffed, running a hand through his hair, “I guess what I’m sayin’ is, I want you in my business, if you wanna be, that is.”

Your lips slowly split into a smile, and you moved to throw your arms around John’s shoulders. “John Marston, I would love nothing more than to be all up in your business,” you said with a laugh, and John’s mouth quirked up in that little half smile that you loved so much.

“Shuddup.”

You hummed, eyes trained on his lips before you leaned forward and kissed him, his arms coming up to wrap around you as the party continued on in the background.

“Fuck!”

Ducking behind cover, you brought your hand up to your shoulder with a pained grunt, pulling it back to reveal your blood covered palm. That was gonna be a bitch to get out later. You tried pushing the pain aside as you reloaded your pistol, popping your head out and nailing an O'driscoll right in the head. 

Fuck this cursed, swamp infested state! 

There was a shout of your name, and you looked over to see John behind a wagon, looking at you with concern evident in his expression. You waved him off, letting him know you’d be fine. Your exchange was interrupted when you heard a blood curdling scream, and you lifted your head to see that an O’Driscoll had Mary-Beth by the arm, dragging her away as she tried to fight him off.

You didn’t hesitate as you ran from cover towards her, shouting at her to get down and lifting your gun, putting three bullets in the bastard’s chest. He fell with a heavy thud, and Mary-Beth turned to you with a terrified expression before you shoved her towards where the rest of the gang had huddled for safety, telling her to run. You tried to follow her when an arm roughly curled around your waist, hauling you back as you kicked and yelled. You tried to point your gun towards them, but it was quickly knocked out of your hand before something cold and sharp was pressed against your neck.

“Don’t try anythin’ funny now, yeah? You won’t wanna find out what happens then,” he said, his hot breath against your ear as he chuckled.

You cringed at the stench of him, body thrashing and driving your foot into his shin. He let you go with a howl of pain. Spinning to face him, you surged forward and tackled him to the ground, barely giving him any time to react as your fist came down over and over again. But he began to swing wildly with his knife, and the blade sunk deep into your thigh. You cried out, white hot pain surging through your leg, and the momentary distraction gave him the upper hand, throwing you off him and yanking the knife out of your skin. 

“Hooo-wee! We got a feisty one here, boys! Too bad we can’t have more fun witchya,” he said, tongue running over his cracked lips.

Your lip raised in a snarl as you tried to fight him off using all your remaining strength, but he was determined, bringing the knife up and aiming for your chest. Panic surged through you, hands shooting out to grab at his wrist. You couldn’t die like this. At the hands of a fucking O’Driscoll?! A shot rang out before he could bring the knife down, blood spraying over your face and his brains blowing out the back of his head. You quickly pushed his limp body off of you as John desperately called out to you.

You almost collapsed from the pain in your leg when you tried to stand, bringing your hand down to put pressure on it, but fuck it was deep, and it hurt like hell.

Your voice was hoarse when you called John’s name, and he was by your side in an instant, eyes frantically searching over you.

“Come on, we gotta get you outta here.”

You nodded, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he helped you stand. He was quick to get you to safety, lifting you up into the back of one of the wagons.

“Shit, you’re hurt pretty bad.”

“I’ll live, you go finish them off.”

“Darlin’-”

“Go! I’ll be fine.”

He looked at you for a moment, your words rolling around in his head for a moment before he sighed and nodded, leaning down to give you a searing kiss. He hopped out of the wagon, immediately firing at the remaining O’Driscoll’s, and you looked around you for something to cover your wound with. Letting out a groan when you found nothing, you pulled out your knife and moved to the edge of the wagon, wincing as you got up onto your knees. Brining your knife up, you cut out a piece of the canvas cover of the wagon. Grimshaw would be upset, but you’d take her wrath over bleeding out any day.

Or, wait-

No, don’t be stupid!

Shaking your head, you tied the cloth tightly around your thigh with a groan, teeth tightly clenched as you leaned back. You hoped this all would be over soon.

Your prayers were answered when the gunfire ceased, and you cautiously poked your head out of the back of the wagon to see the rest of the O’Driscoll’s were dead, much to your relief. You attempted to get out of the wagon, but were quickly stopped when Charles came rushing over to you.

“Woah, woah, woah. Take it slow,” he said, reaching out to you.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Charles carefully lifted you by your hips and set you down on the muddy ground, letting you use him as a crutch as you walked towards the gang.

“Oh, shit, kid,” Arthur grimaced when he noticed you. You waved him off.

“I’m okay.”

“Okay?! You’ve been shot and stabbed, for Christ's sake!”

“Wow, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as John came rushing over to you, taking Charles’s place as your human crutch.

“Come on, we gotta get outta here now. Before more of those bastards show up,” Dutch said.

The man began barking out orders to the gang, and John helped you back to the wagon, making sure to grab some medical supplies along the way.

“Here, I’m gonna have Abigail come and patch you up.”

“Good idea, knowing you, you’d probably put another hole in me.” John sighed, giving you a pointed look that had you shrugging your shoulders and immediately regretting it as you were quickly reminded of the bullet lodged in one of them.

“Christ, could you stop for two seconds?”

You raised a brow. “Stop what?”

“Stop!- Shit, stop making me worry about you. You could’ve died today. Ain’t nothin’ to be making jokes about.”

“John, I’m fine-”

“But you almost weren’t! How can you be so casual about this? The person I love almost dies, and you’re just-”

“You love me?” 

John froze, lips parting like he was trying to find the right words to say. John Marston was never certain about a lot of things, but one thing he was sure about was just how much he loved you. He loved you so much it physically hurt, his heart wrenching whenever you cried, his mood lifting when you’d smile at him. He felt almost blessed just to breathe your air, to be able to hold you and kiss you. The fact that he got to call you his was unfathomable to him. Yet here he was, your face gently cradled in his hands like you’d shatter the moment he was too rough with you. Clearly John did something right in his life to end up so fortunate to have you in it.

Wetting his lips, John brushed his thumb over your cheek, smearing the blood on your face that hadn’t completely dried yet.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Darlin’.”

Bottom lip quivering, you threw your arms around him, not caring about the screaming pain in your shoulder. It felt like any words you wanted to say had been stolen from you, too overwhelmed to properly express just how much you felt. The only thing you could do was mutter a quiet, “I love you, too,” into his neck, his arms carefully winding around you. 

We’re gonna be okay.

You can’t remember the last time you got to relax like this. The last time you felt this good.

You muffled a gasp into John’s shoulder when he hit you with a particularly hard thrust, reaching places deep inside you that you couldn’t even recall anyone else having discovered. Maybe it was the fact that you almost died a few days ago, but holy fuck, he was something else in that moment.

You tried to keep quiet as to not alert the rest of the camp, but god he felt so fucking good inside of you. You could barely contain your moans that so desperately wanted to slip out every time he pulled out and pushed himself back in. And when he reached down between your bodies and began playing with the most sensitive part of you, you almost lost it right then and there.

“Fuck, Darlin’. I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep squeezin’ me like that,” John groaned, lips pressed against your pulse as you keened.

He’d been extra handsy tonight, too. Always touching some part of you whether it be his hand pressed against your lower back or his side brushing against yours when he stood close to you. You couldn’t get away from him all day. He followed your figure with hungry eyes when you did literally anything around camp. When you finally noticed, you knew you were in for it. He was fucking burning for you when you retreated to your tent for the night, pawing at your clothes the second the tent flap closed behind him. He was so eager, he ripped a few buttons off your shirt trying to pull it off you, but you didn’t have it in you to yell at him. You were just as desperate as he was.

“C’mon. I wanna hear you.”

You shook your head, burying your face into his neck. Beaver Hollow was cramped. It felt like all of you were living right on top of each other. There was no way no one would hear.

His hand came down and gripped the back of your thigh, pushing your leg up and spreading you further apart, and he let out a grunt when he felt your teeth sink into his shoulder. Pulling back, his other hand came up to grip your jaw, stilling his hips as he forced you to look at him.

“You holdin’ out on me, sweetheart?”

His hips rolled tightly against your own, your jaw dropping open as your head fell back against the bedroll.

“Don’t- mmh- Don’t fuckin’ tease me, Marston.” He chuckled against your collar bone. He was being cute, but he still wasn’t fucking moving. “I swear to god, if you don’t move right now I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

He snorted that time, only slightly relieving you with the smallest movement of his hips. You didn’t even really mind if you finished, having already come minutes before when he had gone down on you like a man starved. But you were fucking aching for more than just his mouth, and his cock just fit inside you so nicely-

You scrambled to slap your hand over your mouth when he suddenly resumed his thrusts, your back arching up from the bedroll as a rough hand dragged down your front. You choked on a moan when he sat back on his knees and lifted you up into his lap, his hands guiding your hips. Your hand pressed flat against his solid chest, the fingers on your other hand curling into his hair and tugging him forward to sloppily force his lips against yours.

“Fuck!” you gasped, unable to contain the moan that came tumbling out as you held onto him for dear life.

All hopes of being quiet were lost after that, delicious moans pouring out of you that had John picking up the pace so you could both reach your end. You were a bit confused when he laid you back down and pressed his hand against your mouth, his motions stopping, and you whined for him to continue. You arched your hips up desperately, but quickly understood why he stopped when you heard footsteps getting closer to your tent. You silently prayed for them to go away, but your widened eyes met with John’s when you felt him slowly begin to move, and you quickly shook your head against his hand.

He ignored you, slowly pushing in and out, and the feeling had you biting into the flesh of his hand. He didn’t move it, your hands coming up to grip his wrist. You were worried, but the risk of getting caught, the way John felt inside you, it had you cumming in seconds. John was right behind you with a quiet groan, the feeling of you finishing with him inside you sending him over the edge, and the steps slowly retreated.

He gently pulled out with a sigh and collapsed beside you, both of you working to catch your breath.

“God, I really hope that wasn’t Micah,” you muttered breathlessly.

“Eugh. Don’t make me think about him right now.”

You laughed, and John pinched your side. “Guess we’ll see what he says tomorrow, then.”

It went without saying, Beaver Hollow was without a doubt your least favorite camp spot. It was dark, creepy, and there were possible cannibals lurking throughout the woods. However, despite all those things, the starry night sky was a breathtaking sight. 

“Ooh, and that one, that one’s Orion.” you said, pointing up at the sky.

John chuckled from his spot beside you. “You sure know a lot about this stuff, huh?”

You shrugged, lightly squeezing his hand that rested between you. “Not really. I just know the little bit my mother taught me. Orion’s always been my favorite.”

You heard John let out a hum as you continued to look at the stars, unaware of the fact that he had shifted his gaze over to you. There was something about the way you’d talk about things you were interested in that had warmth swirling around in his chest. The way your eyes would light up and you’d get this smile on your face that rivaled the stars you thought of so dearly. He’d never admit it, but that smile was his favorite sight to see after a long day, even if it meant only seeing it after being lectured over how much of an inconsiderate fool he’d been earlier. Still, it was always worth it.

The distant chattering of the gang and the loud chirping of crickets filled the silence between you, a gentle breeze shaking the leaves of the trees and causing a chill to run through you. After a little while, you finally looked over to meet John’s eyes.

“You know, the view is up there,” you said.

John turned on his side, propping his elbow up so he could rest his head in his hand, “Yeah, but I got a better one next to me.”

You scoffed, reaching over and slapping his shoulder as he chuckled, and you turned to face him as well. "Well, you're not so bad to look at yourself," you muttered, reaching out to play with the loose thread of his shirt.

John immediately shook his head. "I'm an ugly bastard, no need to lie to me. I know these scars aren't exactly nice to look at."

"Oh, quite the contrary, actually," you said, moving your hand to carefully run your fingers over said scars. You started at his lip, your thumb brushing over it, before mapping out the ones on his cheek. "You know, some people find scars incredibly sexy."

John raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. And one of those said people just happen to be me." You leaned forward before he could respond with some self deprecating joke and pressed your lips to his, continuing to caress his scarred cheek.

He hummed into the kiss, hand slowly trailing down your back before he rolled over, and you laughed against his mouth as you fell on top of him. Pressing a hand against his chest, the other came up to rest against his cheek as you trailed kisses over his jaw, and his hands fell to your hips, his hold possessive and wanting. You softly gasped when his fingers made their way under your shirt, his skin rough and warm. You pulled away before it could go any further, and John let out a displeased sigh that had you chuckling.

“I know, I know. But, we’re not exactly alone,” you said, glancing up at the rest of the gang, some sitting by the fire, and the rest sound asleep.

“Hasn’t exactly stopped us before.”

You pinched his side before laying your head against his chest, feeling him shake underneath you as he laughed. “Well, yeah, but that was different. It was the middle of the night and everyone was already asleep. Not every single person in camp had the potential to hear us.”

“You sure about that? I mean, with how loud you are-”

“Marston, you finish that sentence and I will never let you touch me again.”

He let out another laugh that had you smiling. You always loved his laugh, the sound being so foreign these days. You wished he had more reasons to be happy. You wished that for all of you. You closed your eyes as John ran his hand up and down your back, and you listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

“John… Do you think we’ll make it out of this? I mean, things aren’t exactly looking up from here. Everything with Dutch, I just-"

            "Hey, we're gonna get outta here. You, me, Jack, Abigail, and Arthur, we're gonna be safe."

He was right. You wanted him to be right. It was hard to imagine, though, when everything seemed to be crumbling around you. The Pinkertons and the O'Driscoll's constantly appearing, killing your friends. Dutch’s ideals and beliefs blurred day by day as his greed and his need to win grew. How could you possibly see a positive end to all this chaos? Despite all that, you tried to focus on the here and now, your body held safely in John’s arms, where you felt safest.

"I miss them," you whispered, your eyes welling up at the thought of all the friends you lost. Your family.

"Me too, Darlin'. Me too."

You knew that you should’ve left with the others. God, you fucking knew. You had talked about it with John before, about taking off in the middle of the night, taking Arthur, Abigail, and Jack with you, but he was on the fence. It was always a “maybe,” or “eventually,” and you felt like ripping your hair out. The pressure you felt to leave only increased when John got taken by the law and Dutch did absolutely nothing but scheme with Micah all day. He constantly made empty promises to you and Abigail that he would get him back, but after days of waiting for the man to make good on his word, you grew restless, enlisting the help of Arthur and Sadie to go rescue him.

“I had a goddamn plan!” Dutch had yelled, and you were so furious, you didn’t even think when you got right in his face and jabbed your finger into his chest.

“And what was that, huh?! Wait a few more days until all you brought back was a fucking corpse?! There was talk of hangin’ him!”

“There was talk of hanging him. Talk!”

You almost drew your gun right then and there, teeth bared as you moved forward, but Arthur gripped your arm and pulled you back. Your head snapped towards Micah when you heard him chuckle, that stupid smirk on his face that you wanted nothing more than to wipe off.

“Whatever. You’re just lucky that you have your fucking pet snake here to protect you.”

Ever since then, there had been a clear tension between you and Dutch, so when he recruited you to go on this train job, you were shocked at first. After your fight you thought he’d want nothing to do with you. But when you thought about it, Dutch didn’t want you on the job because he liked you. No, he wanted you because you were strong and damn good with a gun. To him, you were just another body, a tool to help him get his greedy hands on what he wanted most.

You let out a grunt as you threw yourself onto the train cart from Javier’s horse, rolling onto your side and quickly hauling yourself up on your feet. “God, this is such fucking bullshit!” you muttered, loading bullets into your pistol.

“The train’s being robbed!”

Your head whirled, and you saw a man standing on top of the hill. Goddammit. “Let’s get this show on the road, gentlemen!” you yelled, John making quick work of unlatching the burning car, and you busied yourself with helping Arthur set up the Maxim gun.

You jostled with the explosion of the car, catching Arthur’s shoulder to steady yourself. Looking over at John, relief flooded you when you saw that he was uninjured. You took a step towards him when-

BANG!

“John!”

He stumbled back with the shot, your arm shooting out to try and grab him. Your fingers briefly brushed against his before he fell off the train. You didn’t think as you went to jump after him, but there was a strong arm around your torso pulling you back. You kicked and screamed, trying to get out of Arthur’s hold.

“Kid, no! You wanna get yourself killed?!”

You beat your fist down against his arm. “Let me go! Fuck, I have to help him! Arthur-!”

With enough force, you were able to twist yourself out of his grip, breathing erratically and your hands violently shaking. Arthur held his hands out, trying to get you to calm down, but his words fell on deaf ears when your eyes landed on the man on top of the cart. With a strangled cry, you raised your pistol and emptied it into the man, tears clouding your vision. You pulled the trigger a few more times and heard nothing but empty clicks, and your body collapsed forward onto your hands and knees. Dutch said something about getting John, but you barely registered the words, blood rushing in your ears and heart hammering against your chest. You couldn’t think, could barely even breathe. Arthur placed a hand on your shoulder and you pulled away like his touch burned you. You felt fucking sick. There was a white hot rage that bubbled up inside you and made your insides churn, and you willed your body to stand on shaking legs. Your teeth were clenched so tightly that your jaw started to ache, and as Arthur spoke to Bill, you grabbed your shotgun from your back and began moving up the train without them, hearing him shout for you.

You tore through every lawman in your way, tears rolling down your face as you channeled all your anger and grief into each shot you took. A man came running at you, and you swung your shotgun at his head, his body crumpling down at your feet. You pressed the barrel against his head and squeezed the trigger, blood splattering all over your clothes. You didn’t care, never once bothering to duck into cover, even as the lawmen riding in on their horses started shooting at you. You were too hurt to care, too angry.

As you moved further up the train, a man suddenly came out from behind a wooden crate and slammed into you with a shout, causing you to drop your gun as you stumbled into the wall. You huffed through your nose, your aching shoulder taking most of the blow, and quickly pulled your knife from your thigh. You didn’t feel scared or intimidated, not even as the man raised his gun in an attempt to shoot you. You were just fucking pissed.

You moved in before he could take the shot, swiping the gun out of his hand and using your body to slam him into the wall. Your arm was across his throat, his eyes widening in fear, and you thrust your knife up into his gut, the blade sinking satisfyingly into his flesh. You watched as the life drained from his eyes, blood gurgling up his throat and spilling out of his mouth before you finally let him fall to the ground.

“Kid!”

Arthur gripped your arm and pulled you back from the body, looking over your blood covered form as Sadie came up behind him.

“Come on! We gotta hurry.” She brushed past you both, and you gave Arthur a nod before pulling away from him and following after Sadie towards the armored car, avoiding the man’s concerned gaze. You just wanted to get off this godforsaken train and find John.

***

If I never have to do a train robbery again, I will die happy.

Your sore limbs screamed at you as you lifted yourself up from the dirt, letting out a pained groan. You could mark down ‘jumping off of a moving train’ as one of your absolute least favorite things to do.

  “You okay?”

You glanced over at Arthur, a hefty bag of money resting on his shoulder. You nodded, brushing the dirt off of your clothes. “Just peachy.”

Grabbing your own bag, you followed Bill, Sadie and Arthur down the tracks, the sound of Hooves beating against the dirt getting closer until Dutch, Micah, and Javier stopped in front of you on their horses. There was something missing that you quickly noticed. Someone.

“Where’s John?” Arthur asked.

Dutch shook his head. “I tried. I tried.”

“He didn’t make it,” Micah added. “That patrol killed him.”

The heavy bag fell to your feet, and everyone’s eyes landed on you. Arthur could practically feel the rage radiating off of you, his eyes not able to catch how fast your hand moved as you unholstered your gun and aimed it directly at Micah’s head. No one made a single move after that for a few seconds until Micah’s idiot buddies finally regained their senses and scrambled for their own weapons, pointing them at you. Ordinarily, Micah probably wouldn’t have been phased by the action. He spent so much time spewing his mouth and pissing people off, he most likely couldn’t count how many times in a day a gun had been pointed at him. But the look on your face, that pure, unbridled rage that swirled behind your eyes, it made him nervous.

“You're full of shit.” you spat.

Micah glanced over at Dutch before letting out a chuckle, raising his hands. “Now, I assure you-”

“Both of you! You fucking bastards!”

“Kid, don’t-”

You ignored Arthur’s soft pleas, shifting your gun to Dutch. “You tried?! So you just left him? Is that it?! You fucking left him to die, and were so concerened with saving your own pathetic skin that you couldn’t even grab his body?!”

“There wasn’t time! We had to run! Goddammit, don’t you think I-”

“I don’t think you did anything, Dutch! I think you’re a god damned liar and a traitor!”

Gun shaking in your hand, you finally lowered it after a moment, a broken sob clawing its way up your throat. He can’t be dead. He can’t be. Sadie softly uttered your name and took a cautious step towards you. Concern was written all over her face, gently placing a hand on the center of your back. Sadie showed more care for you in that moment than Dutch had in the past month. And you were abruptly reminded of the fact that, no, Dutch didn’t care about anyone but himself and his own personal gain. Maybe, maybe there was a time long ago when we would’ve gladly given his life for any one of you sorry fools. But now? Any love he had left for you had been weeded out. Speeding over to your horse, you mounted up and connected your gaze with Arthur’s. You didn’t have to say anything for him to know what you were about to do, and his simple nod told you everything you needed to know.

Be careful.

Taking a deep breath, your hands tightened on the reins and you spurred your horse into a gallop, not looking back when Dutch angrily shouted your name. You didn’t care what he’d do to you when you got back to camp, you needed to know for sure what John’s fate was. And if he was dead…

If he’s dead, I’ll fucking kill him!

You followed the train tracks and tried to remember where he fell, looking out for any unique landmarks. How could they just leave him? After everything he’s been through with this gang, his whole life dedicated to what Dutch stood for, and he fucking left him. It was heartbreaking watching the man you once valued as a leader devolve into the power hungry fanatic he was today. He preached honor and loyalty.

Faith.

Fuck faith.

Fuck him.

You wiped an angry tear away from your face and urged your horse to go faster, muttering apologies for how hard you were pushing her, but you couldn’t spare a moment. What if John was bleeding out, alone and in pain? What if he was desperately calling out for you?

What if, what if, what if.

Stopping your horse around where you thought John fell, you dismounted and made your way down the hill, gun held tightly in your hand. “John?!” You waited for a moment, listening closely for a response. When you got none, you searched further and shouted his name again. You tried to prepare yourself for the possibility that he was in fact dead, the thought weighing heavy on your heart. What would you do if that was the case? Where would you go? How could you possibly live your life without that fool in it every day?

You felt like collapsing after minutes of searching with no luck. Your body fell against a nearby tree, and you cried. You cried until your throat hurt and your nose was stuffed, hand coming up to wipe away your snot and tears.

What am I gonna tell Jack and Abigail?

Something cracked, a branch maybe, and your head shot up at the sound. You pushed yourself off the tree, quickly making your way towards the sound and-

“Oh my, god!”

There John was, collapsed against a tree trunk and gripping his shoulder, blood soaking his shirt. You were in front of him in the blink of an eye, kneeling on the dirt and tearing the sleeve off your shirt. He looked so out of it. His eyes were shut tightly as he let out occasional groans from the pain, but you were just glad that he was alive. You were quick to patch up his wound the best you could, taking a half full health cure out of your satchel and urging him to drink it. He coughed as it went down.

“Are you real?”

Your hands paused, and you looked at his face. God, he looked exhausted. With a smile, you reached a hand up and brushed his hair behind his ear, palm resting against his cheek. Your heart ached for John. He had been through so much, and there was nothing you could do to change the fact that the man who had taken him in when he was just a kid, the man who was supposed to protect him, had left him for dead. You couldn't take his pain away, couldn’t say or do anything that would change what happened to him. The fact that you couldn’t keep him from hurting, it killed you. 

When you kissed him, it was gentle at first, but grew more desperate when it finally sunk in that he was actually alive. He was here, with you. You pulled away with a shaky breath, lips pressed together in a sad smile.

“You think this is Heaven, Marston?”

He gave you that boyish grin, hand falling on your thigh and squeezing. “It’s certainly Heaven if you’re here, Darlin’.”

It caught you off guard how sweet he could be with a bullet lodged in him, and you laughed before kissing him again. His face was held so gently in your hands, like you might break him if you moved too suddenly or kissed him too hard. That gentleness was thrown out the window when he hauled you into his lap, letting out a noise of protest against his lips.

“John- you're hurt.”

He buried his face in your neck, his stubble tickling as he trailed featherlight kisses over your skin.

“I thought I’d never see you again. Grant a dying man his last wish.”

“You’re not dying, John.”

“Almost.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling his face away from your neck with a smile before softly connecting your lips again. And again. And again. He chased your lips when you pulled away. He just didn’t want you getting away from him, it seemed.

“You scare me like that again, and I’ll put you in the ground myself. You got it, Marston?”

He just smiled, not paying attention to anything but your lips as he leaned in again. “Whatever you say.”

While you got to share one small, blissful moment with John now, you couldn’t imagine how things would unravel once you both got back to camp and faced Dutch with the man he claimed was dead.

Christ, it was fucking hot. The sun beat down on you as you carried hay into the horse's stall, setting it down with a grunt before taking off your glove and wiping the back of your hand over your sweaty forehead. You couldn’t wait for a nice, long bath.

Maybe a certain someone would consider taking one with you.

You quickly shook your head at the thought, slapping at your cheeks a few times as you felt them heat up.

“Should I be concerned as to why you’re hittin’ yourself?”

You gasped and spun around at the sudden voice, glaring at Arthur’s smug expression.

“Jesus, way to give someone a freaking heart attack,” you muttered, thwacking your glove against his chest as you passed him. He just shrugged with a small chuckle, following after you.

“You make it too easy, kid.”

You hummed, picking up another bail of hay and thrusting it towards him. He quickly grabbed onto it with a quiet grunt. “You gonna help out or stand around torturin’ me?”

“Hey, you wanna talk to someone about pulling their weight, go harass Uncle.”

“Oh, I have plans for him,” you said, hands placed on your hips as you gave Arthur a knowing smirk.

“Well, I can’t wait then.”

Your smile grew as you parted ways from him, walking across Beecher's Hope to find Uncle sitting on the porch in his usual shady spot. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to laze around. Work on the ranch was hard sometimes, and on blistering days like today, it could really take all the energy out of you. Except Uncle seemed to never have energy, considering you’d probably see a sasquatch before you ever saw him do any work.

“Hey, old man.” You kicked at his boot, causing him to abruptly stir awake, which he clearly didn’t appreciate.

“What- Aw hell, what do ya want now? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, really? Because I could’ve sworn it looked like you were doing nothing!”

“Alright, alright! Christ, you’re just as bad as those two imbeciles,” Uncle said, finally standing from his slumped position against the wood support beam with a dramatic groan.

“Hardly, considering I don’t threaten to gut you in your sleep nearly as much.” Walking towards the barn, you grabbed the pitchfork hanging up and handed it over. “You want some work in the shade? Shovel the horse stalls.”

His gaze frantically shifted from you to the pitchfork, and he shook his head. “Aw, Hell no! You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you’d rather subject yourself to the mercy Arthur and John are gonna show you?”

Uncle didn’t say anything for a minute, looking at the pitchfork in his hand before grumbling to himself and trudging off, and a satisfied smirk tugged at your lips. Taking off your other glove, you lightly slapped them against your thigh as you made your way towards the corral, kicking up loose dirt in your path. 

You caught a glimpse of Jack leaning against a tree with a thick book in his hand and wanted to smile. You remembered when he was just a little boy all those years ago, kicking up a fuss whenever Hosea would sit down with him to read. Now, you couldn’t imagine Jack doing anything else with his free time, his face constantly stuffed in a book, barely paying attention to the world around him. He lifted his head when he felt you staring and gave you a small wave paired with a smile. You returned the gesture, letting him go back to his reading before walking away. Hosea would be proud.

Your thoughts strayed at the thought of the older man, a wave of sadness hitting you as your steps faltered. God, he would’ve loved to see this. His family living a good life, more honest than he ever lived his. You imagined how proud he’d be of everyone, especially Arthur. You could see it day by day, the urge he feels to go back to his old ways like a dog trained. You watched as he fought his thoughts, listened as he expressed his worry of overstaying his welcome.

“You’re family, Arthur. Hell, you’re the reason we’re all here in the first place. You can stay here as long as you’d like.”

The corral was soon in your sights, a slight pep in your step as your beloved horse came into view. Kieran stood beside him, a brush in his hand as he gently patted his neck. Despite mosts original feelings about Kieran, he had become a loved and valued member of your family. He had always tried so hard to fit in with the gang, constantly walking on eggshells or mostly keeping his mouth shut so he didn’t unintentionally piss anyone off. You felt for him. But since coming to Beachers Hope, he seemed more relaxed. Perfectly content as he worked with the horses. There was a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, and you wanted to make sure it never went out again.

“How’s he been doing?” you asked, sidling up to both of them.

Kieran smiled at your presence. “He’s been good! Those herbs I gave him yesterday really seem to be helping.”

Orion bumped his nose into your shoulder, and you gently brushed your hand against his forehead with a chuckle. “You’re a lifesaver, Kieran.” The man’s eyes slightly widened at your praise, and he quickly let out a flurry of rushed sentences as his face flushed. You smiled, silencing him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, thank you. You’re really helping us out around here.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood stock still as his eyes roamed your face. He eventually let out a small hum and looked away, resuming brushing the dirt off of Orion’s coat. You let out an amused huff through your nose before leaving Kieran to his own devices. He couldn’t handle the slightest praise if his life depended on it.

“I think you almost gave him a heart attack.”

Charles bumped you with his shoulder, and you let out a hum.

“You should see him when that kind of stuff comes out of Arthur’s mouth. It’s like he’s seen a ghost.”

Charles' deep laugh resonated through your ears and sparked warmth in your chest. You liked it when he was carefree like this. Not skulking around by himself or hiding where no one could find him.

“It’s new for him, too. He looked like a bumbling fool the first time he tried to say something nice to him.”

You snorted, leaning against the fence of the corral and placing your foot on top of the rail. You both watched the animals meander around for a bit, Charles excusing himself to go take care of something. You didn’t really catch the end of what he said when John came into view carrying a bale of hay. You could see the flexed muscles of his arms underneath his shirt, sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck and disappeared under the fabric, and he quickly found your eyes with his own before your thoughts could drift further. You cleared your throat like it would somehow get rid of all the thoughts you were having and climbed the fence, dirt kicking up when you landed on the other side. Setting down the bale, John straightened up and hooked his thumbs into his belt, his lips lifting in a knowing smirk.

“Don’t make me slap you, Marston.”

He laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, well you were gonna,” you muttered, fingers slipping underneath the front of his belt and tugging him forward, his chest knocking into yours. He raised a curious eyebrow.

“You running a little hot, sweetheart?”

You scoffed, fist colliding with his shoulder as you pulled away. “Rancher John has gotten a little cocky, I see.”

“And Gunslinger Martson wasn’t?”

“Oh, absolutely not. Gunslinger Marston was a hopeless fool who couldn’t say ‘I love you’ until I was almost dying.”

“I love you.”

Your head spun towards him, brows raised in slight shock. He shrugged.

“You’re not dying now.”

Your lips twitched up in a smile, stepping towards him again and gripping the front of his shirt. “You’re still a hopeless fool.”

He hummed as you slotted your lips against his, hands finding their home on your waist and tugging you closer until your front was pressed up against his. It was too hot to be this close, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to your skin and sweat beading down your forehead. But you couldn’t pay any mind to that when John’s lips and hands felt so nice against you. 

“Oh for cryin’ out loud, would you two get a room?” a distant Uncle yelled, and you pulled away from John’s lips. You didn’t move too far though, hands still pressed against his chest.

“Aren’t you supposed to be shoveling horse shit?”

You felt John shake with laughter, and Uncle just mumbled insults to himself as he threw the pitchfork in the dirt and stomped away. “Damn kids. Got no respect for their elders…”

Your head collapsed against John’s chest as you fell into a fit of giggles, his arms looping around you and pulling you close. Fingers curling into his shirt, you looked up and caught his gaze. “You done for the day?”

He nodded, and you pulled back to grab his hand, leading him towards the house. You toed off your muddy boots by the door once inside and laughed when John nearly tripped over his pants. He flicked your arm and walked past you into the bathroom. The door closed behind you with a soft click, and you were already working on the buttons of your shirt as John prepared the bath.

“You wanna try out one of these fancy soaps you bought?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes at the way he said it. 

“They are not ‘fancy,’ John.”

“Sure cost us a pretty penny.”

You shrugged your top off, throwing it on the chair in the corner. “Am I not allowed to smell good?”

He scoffed, standing up from the edge of the tub and pulling his shirt out of his pants. “No. I’m saying you smell good regardless of what you use.”

Tilting your head, you stepped into his space and helped him finish unbuttoning, placing small kisses against his chest as you pushed the fabric off his shoulders. Deft fingers slid down his abdomen before reaching his pants, and he let out a soft sigh when you unzipped them.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t gonna be any point to this bath if you keep going.”

Chuckling against his skin, you pulled away to let him finish undressing himself, shedding your own clothes. You dipped your foot into the water and sighed contentedly. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t unbearably hot either. Just that perfect middle ground that you could relax in after a long day. Sinking into the tub, you moved up a bit to let John sit behind you. You could practically feel the tension easing from his body when you leaned back against him, his arms lazily thrown around your middle and his nose buried in your hair.

You reminded yourself to thank Arthur for the thousandth time. Absolutely none of this would be possible if not for him. The fact that you were able to just sit and relax without waiting for some treacherous gang or the law to come barging down your door, that you could just simply live, it felt unreal. Jack, that lovely, sweet boy, finally had a bed to sleep in, and could read his books without worrying about moving to a new place again. It all felt like a blissful dream, and you were afraid of waking up any moment. But you would look at John sometimes and he would smile, really smile, and you’d be reminded that this was all real. His touch, his laughter, his love. It was real.

“You can keep buyin’ it, ya’know.”

“Hm?” you hummed, slightly turning your head back.

“The soaps. They smell… nice.”

Your face split into a wide grin as you twisted your body and pressed your lips to his, brushing his greasy hair back from his forehead.

“You’re a fool, John Marston.”

“Only for you, Darlin’. Only for you.”

#John marston x reader #John marston imagine #John marston oneshot #rdr2 imagine #red dead redemption 2 imagine #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #jim milton #john marston fanfic #rdr2 fanfic

[cherriiiepiee]

“Why won’t you choose me?”

john marston x f!reader

summary !!!! — you’re johns side chick but you’re getting pretty tired of it so you tell john u or abi.. unfortunately he won’t leave his wife for you.

warnings !: smut at the first part (not rlly smut srryyyy) mostly just angst, johns gets drunk for a lil lol and a stinky cheater lol……. I think thatst it !!! ^_^ enjoyyy 😴😴

i feel so bad for abi in this :c i love her smm ill make her smth soon !!

this is kinda short so i do apologize !! i don’t have time to make it longer :((

—

"Thank you, sweetheart. I needed this." John pressed his forehead against yours, the glimmer of sweat and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke filling your nostrils. Cupping your hips with his calloused hands, sliding his length out of your throbbing hole. You let out a whiny moan at the loss feeling of him inside of you.

"I know — I know, I’ll see you later?" John responded, you sighed softly. John was attempting to urge you to leave his tent quickly due to the rising tension within him. Johns heart was racing at the thought of his wife, Abigail, approaching his tent and finding you half naked in Johns tent as his cum rested on your chest. He personally never cared for aftercare, not with you. You were just something to get his stress out. John quickly grabbed a rag and began rubbing off the mess off of you, burying the rag deep in his pocket, making a mental note to throw it away later.

"John.. I, er — can we talk about this? I don’t —" Your sentence was cut short by John's abrupt intervention, as he hastily shoved you out of the tent. Without giving you a chance to speak, John rushed around, frantically tidying up the cot, completely ignoring your presence.

—

Another heated argument erupted between John and Abigail, yet this one was worse for the both of you. Abigail was growing more suspicious with each passing moment, she began questioning the mysterious marks resting on John's neck. The outlaw was at a loss for words, utterly incapable of formulating a believable lie.

“It’s nothin’ Abigail.. just — quit it,” John attempted to pacify Abigail with a gentle rub of her shoulders, his free hand attempting to conceal most of the marks on his neck from her view by making his jacket cover most. She was unwilling to listen to those lies, growing tired of his bullshit and storming off. Johns hands slapped on his face, sighing frustratedly.

John could feel your gaze drilling into his skull, even after he strolled away into his tent. His temper had reached its limit, the pressure of his situation piling up on him as he responded in his usual brash manner. "What? I ain’t in the mood to deal with you either," he scoffed, spinning on his heel and storming off. A shiny bottle was held tightly in his hand, the contents inside indicating his desire for a brief escape from reality.

You never understood Johns relationship with Abigail. Nobody did. Not even John himself.

—

"I'm getting real sick of that attitude," you huffed, hovering above John as he lay flat on his back on the ground. He laughed drunkenly, his words barely intelligible as the alcohol took over his mind. "Why does it matter to you?" John laughed out a response, his words slurred and his speech already incoherent.

"Abigail or me." You firmly demanded, clearly frustrated by John's attitude. The outlaw's drunken wheezing laughter suddenly came to a halt, his sudden shift in expression making it clear he was getting angry. He propped himself up, his voice still slurred. "Are you serious..?" he uttered, his voice growing increasingly furious as he stared you down, his gaze burning into you.

John responded immediately, the words falling from his tongue without a second thought. "I'm not leaving my wife." He spoke through clenched teeth, taking a swig out of his beer before tossing the remainder onto the ground. The bottle broke into numerous shards on the ground, the sharp noise reverberating all throughout the encampment. You listened to him with a sinking heart, but a deep part of you knew his words to be true. You had dared to dream, wanting to believe that he would choose you, oh, how wrong you were.

"You don't love me?" You asked, your voice full of a deep sense of heartbreak and longing. John kept silent, refusing to answer your question, which gave you a clear hint at how he felt. He eventually muttered out a half-hearted "Sorry." before stumbling away, turning his back to you as you remained speechless, your eyes already filled with tears.

—

Everything has become different, John's behavior in contrast to his previous behavior indicating that something had fundamentally shifted in his attitude. He refused to even glance at you, never acknowledging your existence as he put all of his attention towards his wife. The attention he gave her was all the affection and care you'd desired, the sweet love and affection you yearned for. You could no longer help but feel the sting of jealously in your heart, envious of Abigail's privileged position and wishing you could be in her shoes.

You went to sit beside him, offering a small smile in a futile attempt at garnering his attention. However, he simply stood up and walked away, heading towards his shared tent with Abigail and leaving you in the chilly air alone once again. His indifference towards you only served to deepen your sadness, the tears filling up once more as the painful realization set in.

Why would you even think he would choose you?

teehee🙈🙈

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #red dead redemption 2 #teehee #x reader #foryou #part one #john marston #angst #no happy ending #female reader #fem reader #smut #abigail roberts #abigail marston #John marston imagine

[mushrubes]

Another?

Masterlist | Red dead redemption masterlist |

Requested : no

Based on character ai { Hosea Matthews by @/addynot }

Pairing : father! Hosea Matthews x child! reader, John Marston x matthews! reader

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : platonic / familial + fluff

Word count : 1.4k

Warnings : Swear words, familial, best friends in love, slightly ooc <3

Have a great day !! <3

——————————–

You stood still as Hosea cleaned the blood from your nose. He looked genuinely angry this time. You had a habit of getting into fights at school, but after this last one — your father seemed to be at his wit’s end. “I can’t believe you. I’ve tried so hard to get you an education and you go off and get into trouble.” He mumbled to himself, his hands gentle as he cleaned off your bruised face. He was extremely disappointed in you. "Pa, I'm sorry! It was deserved!" You defended, rolling your eyes. “I doubt that,” he argued. “You’ve told me before that every time you get into these things it’s ‘deserved’.” Hosea sighed. “Tell me. What happened this time?” he questioned. "O'driscolls. Two of them. Cornered me and they punched John after calling you and Uncle Dutch murderers so threw a punch at them and then the three of us started fighting." You explained.

Hosea rolls his eyes. “You know, you really shouldn’t go around throwing punches every time someone insults the gang.” He sighs again. “If I’m being honest… I’m almost scared to ask what happened to the O’Driscolls. How’s John?” he asked, the disappointment and concern evident. "They were threatening to get their guns out, and me punching them is too far? yeah, bullshit." You mumbled under your breath. "I think John's okay. I got him to go to Miss Grimshaw when we got back - he'll most likely have a black eye tomorrow." You sighed. “You don’t have to curse, kid. I understand the situation but what you failed to remember is that you’re only 16. You can’t go around throwing punches just because someone insults you.” Hosea sighs. “And as much as I don’t really like the O’Driscolls, I don’t think you should’ve punched them. That’s a good way to get yourself killed.” he shook his head.

Hosea sighs — a look of sadness and disappointment flashes through his face. “I know, love… I know. But, that doesn’t change anything; It’s still very dangerous to try and start fights with them. One day, you might end up picking the wrong fight…” He lets out another deep sigh. “You’re a smart kid. I just don’t want you to… do something stupid.” his voice softened, eyes full of love and concern for you, only wanting the best. "Whatever." you rolled your eyes, scoffing at him. “I’m serious, love. I don’t need to lose you the same way I lost your mother. I’m all you got right now, and it’s tough parenting a child in the gang. If anything happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.” Hosea paused, thinking. “Can I trust that you won’t get into another fight? Just while you’re at school?” he pleaded, wanting some sort of confirmation. "Yeah, sure." You huffed, getting up.

Hosea breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sweetheart. Just… please try to stay out of trouble. You’re the only child I’ll ever have, and I don’t want you to go the same way your mother did.” He looks at you, his face softening. “Just… just give me a hug, would you?” Your face softened and you gave in, hugging him tightly. You didn't even notice your tears staining his shirt. Hosea hugs you back tightly, holding his emotions back as tears begin to fall down his cheeks. “You’re… you’re the closest thing I’ll ever get to seeing your mother again.” He whispers quietly. “Don’t do that to me again, okay?” He holds you close, not wanting to let go. “I love you darling.” he caressed your head gently. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Pa. I love you too." You whispered, wiping your tears. “I know, sweetheart. Just… just don’t do something like that again, okay?” Hosea holds you close for what feels like forever, not wanting to let go. Eventually — and reluctantly — he does. “Now go on, get washed up and get to bed. It’s late.” he said.

"Okay. Goodnight, Pa. I love you." you responded, kissing his cheek gently. “Love you too, sweetheart. Goodnight.” With that, Hosea shuts the door behind you — leaving you alone to get cleaned up and head to bed. You made your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and getting changed. You get changed into something comfortable, ready to go to bed. As you start brushing your teeth, you begin to remember everything that happened earlier as well as the promise you made to Hosea — not to get into any more fights. This was probably one of the last times he was ever going to be easy on you, you thought to yourself. He genuinely didn’t want you to get hurt. You smiled softly when you walked back into your shared bedroom, seeing John sitting on his bed "Hey loser." you called lovingly, making him look up in your direction. “Shut up, runt.” John replied back lovingly with a smile on his face.

“How did your talk with father go?” John had a cut on his eye, it was swollen and red — but it wasn’t too bad. He looked completely exhausted. "Usual lecturing. How's your face doing?" you asked, gently cupping his cheek, frowning at the cut. “Same as always, numb to the pain,” John chuckled, leaning in to give you a kiss on your cheek. This was always your relationship with John. You teased and bickered a lot, but you both cared for each other deeply. He sighs. “I just… can’t believe you punched those bastards. What if they did get their guns out?” he pondered, concern evident in his voice and on his face. "Was worth it. They punched you and insulted my dad and Dutch." You shrugged, not even hesitating, meaning every single word. “Still not worth it.” John argued — but you could tell he wasn’t being serious, he was just worried about you. “Hosea was worried you were gonna get yourself killed. He was on the verge of tears talking to you.” John pauses for a second to think.

“Just… try not to do this again… okay, love?” he asked. "They're lucky I didn't kill them for hurting you." You commented, sitting next to him on his bed. “I know… but they weren’t worth the effort,” John chuckled weakly. “Now, come here.” He motioned for you to cuddle up with him on his bed. “I’m too tired to keep arguing.” he chuckled. You smiled softly, cuddling up to him, head on his chest. John’s body was warm. It always felt safe and cosy whenever you cuddled up to him like this — his large frame was comfortable to rest against. He wraps his arm around you, holding you close as he kisses your forehead. He was so big and handsome, and it made you feel safe in his arms. "Hey John?" you called quietly, turning the light out so it was dark. “Yeah, love?” He looked down at you. You could see his eyelids were slightly heavy — he was half asleep. “What’s up?” He asked softly. "Y'know I'd do anything for you, right?" you whispered, nuzzling into him.

John smiles at you, feeling slightly amused by your words. “I have no doubt,” he chuckled. “What’s your point?” He pulled you closer to him, feeling completely comfortable with you by his side. "I love you. I know we're teenagers but…" You trailed off, a lovesick smile on your face. John looks at you, his dark eyes filled with love for you. “I love you too, darlin',” he whispers back — his soft voice echoing softly through the room. “I know we’re just teenagers… but I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you in it.” He pulls you even closer to him, his hand brushing through your hair. “We’re gonna get through this… okay? I promise.” he assured, pressing kisses to your forehead and cheeks. "me and you forever?" you questioned, intertwining your hands. “Me and you forever, my love. No matter what that means or where that takes us.” His words were sweet, he meant every one of them. John had done so much for you, he was so much more than your best friend — he was the person who you trusted and loved more than anyone in this world. He was, truly, your soulmate.

Maybe everything was going to be okay after all.

#hosea #hosea x reader #hosea imagine #hosea fanfic #hosea matthews #hosea matthews x reader #hosea matthews imagine #hosea matthews fanfic #john #john x male reader #john x reader #john x female reader #john imagine #john fanfic #john marston #john marston x male reader #john marston x you #john marston x female reader #john marston x reader #john marston fanfic #john marston imagine #rdr #rdr x you #rdr x female reader #rdr x male reader #rdr x reader #rdr imagines #rdr fic #rdr fanfiction #red dead redemption imagines

[jayden-okayden]

“Funny.” John Marston/Reader-18+

Reader and John have been dating a while, and go on a job with Charles and Arthur. After all is said and done, the group tells stories around the fire after setting up camp for the night, but things get heated between John and Reader when they think the other two can’t hear them

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Even after all the shit Dutch has been putting the group through as of late, you personally were all for his most recent idea.

He sent you, John, Arthur, and Charles on a job in Saint Denis, mentioning something of an illegal poker room he had heard a rumor about. Though you had initially declined, explaining that a heist like that in the middle of a city was too risky, the stubborn man threatened to put you on guard duty for the next fourteen days; and, well, you were suddenly very interested in this gunsmith.

Making your way over to John first, you explained the job, and he seemed to be just as apprehensive as you were.

“You’re kidding, right? The last thing we need right now is our faces potentially posted on every street corner in a major city. You really wanna’ go through with this?” He asked, crossing his arms, and you shrugged, taking a step closer.

“Well, it’s that or I’ll be on late-night watch duty for two weeks, and personally, I’ll take those odds.” You reasoned, and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“‘Sides, d’you really want to spend two weeks sleeping in an empty bed?” That last bit garnered a jolt from your partner, and he cleared his throat.

“I mean, I guess it ain’t that much of a difference to what we’re used to..” he mumbled, and you hummed happily, leaning away and looking around to make sure no one was watching the interaction. John clapped his hands together, rocking back on the balls of his feet.

“Ah, well, I’ll go let Arthur and Charles know then. I’ll catch you over by the horses in a few?” He asked, and you nodded, rubbing a hand over his shoulder soothingly.

“Alright, cowboy, just make sure you knock something over or make a lot of noise before opening that tent flap.” You said with a grin, and the dark brunette visibly cringed at the thought, waving you off as you laughed.

The ride into Saint Denis was fairly uneventful, boring, even, and the four hours you spent on your horse left you feeling saddle-sore. Even then, as you were hightailing it out of the city after robbing the store, you admitted to Arthur that the whole thing could’ve honestly been a two man job, perhaps even one man, as the two of you rode side by side with John and Charles taking the lead.

“I’m just sayin’, Dutch could’ve spent a little more time looking into the smith, and easily would’ve figured out a more efficient way of goin’ about this job.” You explained, and Arthur shrugged.

“Yeah, well, you know how the man is.” He reasoned, giving you excuse to roll your eyes once again during this conversation. You pulled a face, squinting and raising your eyebrows as you imitated your leader.

“Oh, Orthor’, I promise, just this last score, and we will be settin’ sail to Tahiti by the end of the week.” You drawled, deepening your tone as you mocked the older man. Arthur shook his head, but you caught the amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he turned away. Straightening your back out, you rode in closer to swap places with Charles at Johns side.

“Darlin’, what d’you think, should we make camp for the night? S’almost sundown, and we won’t make it back until at least early mornin’; even if we don’t stop to give the horses breaks.” You offered, and John nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, yer’ probably right, let’s find us a spot to set up.” He replied, and you waved the other two men behind you over as John lead his horse off the road.

The trio had applauded you enthusiastically as you reached into your bag a while after camp was finished setting up, pulling out two unopened bottles of whiskey you had swiped while at the poker room. You now sat in a semicircle around the fire, passing around the first bottle as you told stories of past heists the four of you pulled.

“Well do you remember the time Arthur got himself locked in a storage room while we were robbing that old man’s stead?” Charles asked, looking to John for a response. Your partner looked deep in thought for a brief moment, before you saw his eyes light up at the memory.

“Right, right, I do! We ended up getting kicked out, and were almost to the horses when you said somethin’ like “oh god, Arthur’s still in the house!” Your mouth fell open as you listened, and the three of you laughed when Arthur grumbled in annoyance about “being the only one that took that run seriously.” A few moments passed in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the crackle of the fire, and the clinking of the whiskey bottle against a metal cup whenever more booze was poured. You hummed, remembering another account.

“Well, I know Johnny here won’t love me tellin’ you two this one, but there was this one time last winter when we had been on a job in the Grizzlies. This bloke in Strawberry told us a rumor about some hick’ family sittin’ on a few acres of land that had gold buried somewhere.” John groaned, putting his hand over his eyes, and you grinned, catching the way Charles and Arthur had both leaned in to listen to the story.

“We made it to the property alright, even scoped out how many folk were there. But of course, this one here was scarcely able to keep his hands to himself, and opted to waste valuable time in a tool shed rather than actually focus on the task at hand.” Another sound of annoyance, and you rolled your eyes.

“Long story short, he can’t keep quiet to save his damn skin, either, and we had to run like hell from a hailstorm of bullets, all while naked as the day we was born!” You finished, and grinned as the couple across from you started cackling. John frowned, glaring at you with a red face.

“Ain’t funny. We had to crawl back to camp and come up with an excuse to explain to Dutch why we were coming back empty handed.” He pointed out, and you shrugged.

“Hey, it wouldn’t have turned out that way if you could keep it in your pants for more than five minutes around me.” You retort, and grin as you hear the other two still trying to stifle their laughter. With another eye-roll that had you convinced your boyfriends eyes would eventually end up getting stuck in his thick skull, John turned to his bag, pulling out some cured beef and a couple cans of vegetables for the group to cook and eat.

A few hours passed, and the others were settling down to go to sleep. You agreed to take first watch, and pressed a light kiss to Johns cheek before picking up your gun, and making your way toward the woods to find a spot to lean up against a tree. Hanging your rifle over your shoulder, you absentmindedly tugged at the frayed edges of your coat. The night was almost eerily silent, even the sound of crickets chirping being muffled. With the fire now just smoldering embers, the moonlight seemed bright enough to see nearly every detail carved into the otherwise darkened forest. You stood still for what felt like it could have been minutes or hours, letting the quiet of nature blanket you, when you heard a branch snap.

Tilting your head out past the tree trunk, you rolled your eyes at Johns futile attempt at being stealthy.

“Tryin’ to sneak up on me, Marston?” You whispered, keeping quiet in hopes of not waking the other two members of your party. You heard the man scoff.

“I already know I’d need to be much more careful to get the jump on you, what with your super-human hearing.” He hummed, and you grinned, shrugging as he came and leaned against the tree next to you.

“You still mad about earlier?” You asked, raising a brow, and the brunette huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“Nah, it isn’t like I don’t have my fair share of embarrassing stories about you, darlin’.” He responded, and you pulled a face, nodding.

“Touché. I better watch my back then, huh, cowboy?” You questioned, a suggestive lilt in your tone that earned a surprised look from your partner. He glanced between you and the direction of the camp, barely twenty feet away.

“What, you too yellow ta’ take me tonight?” You hummed, leaning in and whispering the words directly into Johns ear as you trailed a hand up to tug at the baby hairs on the back of his neck. He shuddered, and you grazed your teeth over the sensitive skin between his jaw and throat.

“I ain’t..” he argued, and you grinned against his rapidly heating flesh, letting his hands wander all over your body.

“Then do it, cowboy.” You ordered, and he grunted quietly, lifting your chin with his index finger so he could capture your lips. You allowed him to turn you around, and braced yourself against the tree with one hand as you held him flush against your back with the other. John worked quickly to undo the fastening on the layers shielding your torso from him, letting your jacket fall to the ground and clearly getting too impatient to fully remove your shirt.

He opted for sliding it halfway off, moving on to tug open your belt and push your pants and briefs down over your rear.

“Get on with it, don’t worry about getting me ready, I prepped earlier this mornin’.” You explained, and the outlaw groaned against your bare shoulder, laving his tongue across your skin and peppering you with kisses.

He pulled away, and you listened as his clothes rustled, feeling his length resting heavy over the small of your back not too long after. You shoved your hand into the pocket of your bunched-up jeans, grabbing the tin of oil and lathering it onto your hand before reaching behind you and wrapping your fist around Johns cock.

His hips bucked, and you squeezed him tightly around the base when he moaned a bit louder than he should be.

“Keep quiet, or your brother might just catch us.” You hissed, and decided not to comment on the way his dick jumped at the prospect of getting caught fucking you. Again.

You let go of him, and your muscles thanked you as you returned to a less strained position. You felt his cock drag back over your ass, and tried not to move around too much when he would slide it over your hole repeatedly, the oil slicking up the skin on it’s way.

“Quit teasing.” You ordered, and John grunted in response, pulling back and slowly pushing in. You clenched your jaw, keeping quiet as every inch stretched you open. You whimpered as he leaned in, whispering encouragements into your ear until he bottomed out.

“So good for me, baby. Taking my cock so well.” You keened at the praise, eyes fluttering shut when he drew almost completely out of you before pushing back in slowly.

The brunette picked up the pace, thrusting in and out of you rhythmically while teasing your nipples with both hands around your front.

“J-John-“ you gasped, mouth hanging open as your nails splintered the tree bark. He cooed into your ear, hushing you gently.

“Shh, I know, baby.” He whispered, and his thrusts sped up, getting more rough. Your breathing hastened, and you felt pressure building up as your eyes snapped open. Your orgasm crashed over you in waves, jolts of pleasure tingling as John kept going, driving you to being almost overstimulated. He thrusted one last time, stilling inside of you as he climaxed.

After both catching your breath, he helped you straighten out your clothes, cleaning you up as best he could with limited supplies at hand.

“Here, come back over to the camp and we can get some water to clean you up better.” He offered, and you nodded, following him for a few steps before colliding with his back when he stopped in his tracks.

“The hell are you doing?” You snapped, but trailed off when you looked over his shoulder, seeing Charles and Arthur sitting at the campfire that was now back up and burning. Arthur glanced up at you both with a thoroughly unimpressed look.

“You two make it pretty difficult to sleep y’know.” He drawled, exhaustion evident in his voice. You cleared your throat, shrugging.

“Don’t look at me, it was his fault.” You claimed, and sauntered back over as naturally as you could while trying to seem like you weren’t just getting your guts rearranged by his brother. A pause, and suddenly John was back to his usual, argumentative self.

“That’s not how-“ He stomped after you.

“They’re lying- that’s not what happened-“ he explained, and Arthur just shook his head in exasperation, picking back up the mug he was drinking from. Charles grinned, and he grabbed a the kettle off the grate over the fire, picking up another cup.

“Chamomile tea?” He asked, directed towards you, and you nodded, thanking him. John perked up, leaning in.

“Can I have-“

“No. You’ve got next guard duty, Marston, and we don’t need you fallin’ asleep on us and getting everyone killed if some asshole comes ridin’ in.” Arthur snapped, cutting him off. John groaned, and you offered an empathetic smile, only receiving an annoyed look in return as he picked up his own water skin and took a few chugs.

“Funny,” you started, and the three turned to look at you curiously.

“You would think he’d be in a better mood after getting to fuck me.” You continued, and smirked as John spit out his water in shock, Arthur and Charles simply shaking their heads in amusement.

“What? I feel like good sex would put anyone in a good mood.”

#RDR2 #RDR #arthur morgan rdr2 #john marston rdr2 #charles smith rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 community #rdr2 imagine #lemon #smut #rdr2 smut #18+ fanfic #rdr2 18+

[reddeaddamnation]

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2 PREFERENCE: Their reaction to your death

Arthur Morgan

"Get me a doctor, come on!" Arthur yelled, galloping into camp with you in front of him, seemingly barely hanging on on the saddle. The gang immediately gathered around, shocked and worried about your condition. "What happened?" Dutch asked. "O'Driscoll boys." Arthur sneered "Ran into us on the way back. Got them to back off but not without trouble."

Miss Grimshaw carefully took you down from the saddle, grimacing at the gushing wound on the side of your belly from a gunshot. "Miss Grimshaw. Put her to lay down somewhere. John, go into town and get a doctor. Quick!" Dutch started barking orders around "Mr. Pearson, give her something for the pain. Arthur..." he looked at the man with a look of sadness and muttered quietly "I'm sorry, son."

"I don't think she's gonna make it." Micah said indifferently, watching Susan carry you away, as you slipped in and out of consciousness while stumbling on your way. "You shut the hell up!" Arthur yelled, jumping down from his horse and grabbing Micah by the shirt "What do you know?" Micah scoffed "I know enough that if there's an exit wound, she's lucky enough to make it here alive enough to say goodbye."

John Marston

Someone ratted you out. This was a trap. The stagecoach was a setup, because as soon as you, Arthur, John and Sadie stopped it, you were overrun by Pinkertons, who chased you into the woods to a cave where you hoped to hide. Except that they cornered you inside and were nearing your hiding spot while Arthur was cursing and looking for a way out discreetly behind some stalagmites. There was a tight opening near them, but you would be too slow to escape in time. You looked at John, heart pounding in your chest as the voices neared. Arthur was urging Sadie to go in the opening and beckoning you to follow her. You squeezed John's hand. "I got this." You got up, ignoring the hushed scolding "Are you insane?", "What are you doing?"

"Sirs." You walked out of the hiding spot slowly, hands up "Agent Milton." You nodded at the Pinkerton. There were at least 15 people aiming at you. "It seems... you caught me. It was a fun chase." You scoffed. "Surrender your weapon, miss L/N." Milton ordered "This doesn't need to get bloody." You slowly dropped your gun to the ground, side eyeing the others, who watched you from behind the rocks. "Where are your associates?" Milton interrogated. "It seems we got split up. I'm lost and they left me behind." You answered, walking closer to them so their attention is only on you.

"This one could be a valuable asset to lure Van Der Linde out of hiding, sir." Agent Ross mumbled to his colleague "With her, we don't even need to look for the others. They will come to us." Until the end, you were sure nobody would shoot. You knew they know how close your gang is. Surely even if you were captured, they would come to save you and the agents knew it. Milton was thinking silently. "You know what, Ross?" He thought "I don't think so." Gunshot. You gasped and hunched over, leaning on one of the rocks, holding your chest, where blood quickly painted your shirt red. "It's easier picking them out one by one."

John wanted to scream. He wanted to jump out and massacre them all. You slid down the stalagmite until you were sat. Your eyes briefly met his before the life drained from them and he was left, locking eyes with a corpse. He was ready to jump out and start shooting, before Arthur grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back roughly. "We'll come back. We'll avenge her. I swear. Let's go."

Charles Smith

How many more people was he going to bury? Lenny, Hosea, Arthur... now... the unthinkable. Saint Denis wasn't a place for you and he was cursing himself for bringing you here ever since you settled in. You always told him how much you hate the big city and how would love to have a homestead somewhere in the countryside... he knew everything about you. How depressed you feel in this grey, corrupt city, how it made you feel chained and small. He swore you will buy a homestead soon when you have money.

But that day never came. Today, tuberculosis finally got the better of you. And Charles blamed everything on himself. From where you contracted the illness, he didn't know. All he knew was that he despised this disease ridden society. He couldn't listen to your painful hacks and coughs day and night without his heart wretching in pain. You were such a shining and bubbly person before the illness dimmed your flame.

After the burial, he sat at your grave all day. Neither crying nor smiling, not thinking or moving. He felt empty. For all he cared from now on he could die too for bringing this upon you. He knew he shouldn't have moved you here... he would blame himself for the rest of his life.

Dutch van der Linde

Guns blazing in the distance. The O'Driscolls scattered, panicked, reaching for their guns. You watched them with a smirk. Dutch was coming. You heard him. "Face me, you scum!" He yelled, mercilessly shooting anyone in his way, his gang behind him. "He's gonna get you now, Colm." You teased your captor "And he won't be as gentle as you were." You sneered menacingly, spitting blood on the ground, which had been drenched in your blood from five days of torture and malnutrition. "Shut your mouth, harlot." Colm was panicking. "I told you but you didn't listen." You laughed "What do you know, huh? We've been through this before, me and Dutch. And I'd do it again." Colm grabbed you by the throat "You're just a disposable toy to him. I bet in a month from now I'd be doing this with another wench I don't even know the name of." You spit in his face, making him back off.

"I'd think you're in love with him more than me, Colm. You're obsessed. You wanna be next in line, huh?" You mocked, laughing loudly to let Dutch know where you are. "Why you..." he grabbed you by the hair and aimed his gun at your neck. "Colm!" Dutch kicked the door in, aiming his gun at Colm's head, along with Arthur and Bill.

The house you were kept in was in a remote place in the mountains near the Grizzlies. Dutch must have rode for days without rest for him to find you so fast. "Here we are again, Dutch." Colm smirked "Too bad I don't have a brother for you to kill nearby."

Dutch growled "It will not happen again. I guarantee it." Silence. Colm thought for a moment before raising his hands "Alright." He cut the ropes holding you up "You win, Dutch. You outnumbered me. I won't be the one to kill her." You fell to the ground, wrists sore from the days of being hung up. Colm backed away towards a window. "My darling Y/N." Dutch held out his hand, but not leaving Colm out of sight "Let's get out of here."

You were about to stand up when a gunshot pierced your side and Colm disappeared through the window, broken by the bullet. "No!" Dutch screamed falling to his knees to hold you. He didn't have any words left to describe his hatred for Colm. No punishment would be enough for him. Arthur ran to the window but quickly ducked before the sniper could shoot him. "Y/N.." Dutch caressed your cheek "I'm here." History was repeating itself. "Dutch..." you whispered before passing out. If he didn't have a reason to live before, Dutch was now determined to destroy Colm O'Driscoll's life and give him the most painful death.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead 2 #arthur morgan #Arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #john marston #charles smith #charles smith x reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #arthur morgan imagine #john marston imagine #Charles smith imagine #dutch van der linde imagine

[xyziiix]

•𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙰 𝚆𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙽• masterlist

•pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader (reader is described as a woman)•

Summary: scattering further from the west with the infamous van der linde gang had its moments, moments of loss and mourning.. and moments of contentment and joyousness with the only family you’d ever known, being brought up by the two conmen: Dutch Van Der Linde and Hosea Matthews. Growing up with not-so-little John Marston and a brooding Arthur Morgan, whom your relationship with had blossomed over the years into something much more intimate. Only problem is that the new world was becoming harder and harder to ignore, outlaws like yourselves weren’t so welcome by folks no more, and as they say, ‘maybe sometimes people did not actually change, maybe you just never knew who they really were.’

•Warnings for series: violence, murder/death & gore, language, SMUT!, mentions of SA, ⚠️ !Micah Bell! ⚠️

A/N: hello I am alive!! Sorry I haven’t been updating the series ‘just us’ (walking dead au) i just feel like I only briefly thought about the story plot and started writing it and now I’ve stumbled into writers block with it, I keep on re-reading the last chapter thinking of where I’m gonna carry it on, bearing in mind how it will continue- I mean don’t get me wrong I know the basic plot lines that I’m dying to put into words but I’m really struggling to turn it into lengthy chapters, but I will be sure to try and continue it as I think it could really turn into something amazing! For now I’m gonna be starting this new story as I’ve had time to sit and think and take notes about it! ❤️

for some reason the links don't work for the first 3 chapters, if anyone knows how to fix it please let me know! ive also uploaded this story on wattpad (also under 'LIKE A WESTERN') so go and check it out there, i will make sure to upload all the chapters i write on here onto there! x

✰ = smut

Chapters:

COLTER

[i] ✰

[ii]

[iii]

[iv] ✰

[v]

[vi]

ʜᴏʀꜱᴇꜱʜᴏᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀʟᴏᴏᴋ

[vii]

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan smut #dutch van der linde #john marston #arthur morgan imagine

[heisamarvelouspersona]

VDL boys + "Dog or Cat Person"

this is my first post on tumblr and im *really* hoping this hasnt been done already.

Dutch:

cat person i just f*cking know it

he's one of those cat people that cannot distinguish his baby from an actual human child (me too its fine)

he has a white persian kitty and she lives in absolute luxury

just like the count, she wont let anyone else pet her. shes also probably called the countess

shes his special little babygirl, his meow meow, his little sweet cheese. if Arthur and John were drowing and he could only save one? he'd go catch a fish for his lil kitty cats dinner.

tried to take her as his plus one to the mayors party. Hosea absolutely would not allow it. spent hours debating over it.

Javier:

dog person

he's one of those guys that "doesnt see the point in cats"

"dogs are companions. you can never trust a cat. they lack loyalty" (speak for urself javi)

he probably tried to pet one once and it rejected him. now hes got a grudge against all of them

he likes little dogs. jack russels the most. they're tiny but fierce (and also very cute)

his dog will curl up at his feet whilst he plays guitar at the fire

John:

dog person

its not like he doesnt like cats. they just really don't like him.

hes too loud and excitable, and he kind of smells. cats just see him as one big hairless dog.

which he is. rufus sleeps at the foot of the bed with him and abigail....usually ends up inbetween them like a little kid and John just thinks its adorable. (abigail not so much)

prefers smaller, shorthaired dogs, that don't resemble wolves - for totally understandable reasons

will go out hunting with his dog and come back days later...with more dogs.

Sean:

both. totally both. i cannot see this man having a favourite

big, wolfy dogs and ginger cats ftw

will share his bed and literally let them eat off of his plate. drinks from the same cup as his cat and lets them both give him kisses. its gross but endearing

worms? he doesnt know her (he absolutely does)

hes covered in scratch marks. hes a full-time cat dad (i love him)

when his dog has zoomies...he probably has zoomies too

hes actually really good at training his pets? his dog is the most well behaved in camp. even dutch asked him to teach "the countess" some party tricks

Hosea:

dog person

hes allergic to cats :(

he still enjoys their company, he just cant have his own.

has a coonhound. he and bessie got her as a puppy. shes around 11 years old now but shes still got some life in her. much like her dad.

he used to take her hunting with him but now shes getting too old. still takes her on cons n such.

he'll take her fishing in the boat, chatting away to her about the old days with bessie.

he was raised with dogs. hes like a certified dog whisperer

Charles:

both...but leaning toward cats.

he would love to have a dog but he recognises that he doesnt have enough time to spare for a dog. dogs are family pets, cats are more suited to his way of life

even tho he doesn't have his own dog he always spares time for the rest of the camps canine companions. often going hunting just to bring them back their own meat.

his cat is just as stoic and kind as he is

hes the type of cat owner that wont see his cat for like 7 months and then they'll turn up like its nothing.

he doesnt worry because he trusts his cats natural instincts to find its home.

he pets every cat dog he sees. every. single. one.

#what even is grammar #i didn't read over this like at all #red dead redemption 2 #sean macguire #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption imagine #rdr2 #john marston #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #hosea matthews #charles smith #javier escuella #imagine #x reader #arthur morgan x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #sean macguire imagine #john marston x reader #idk how tags work can you tell

[cwbylikeyou]

i’m bored at uni (hate/love being in law school), if you guys want to send me some asks so ill be delusional with yall and write some blurbs… 🫣

#mortal kombat x reader #arthur morgan x reader #mortal kombat #liu kang x reader #mortal kombat smut #dutch van der linde x reader #john marston x reader #arthur morgan imagine #sadie adler x reader #rdr2 x reader #johnny cage x reader #rdr2 smut #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan

[komotionlessqueenmm]

While trying to get on my horse in Red Dead Redemption 2, I sorta accidentally made John choke slam a woman... And I can't stop thinking about it... Like can you imagine pushing him to far and he's so pissed he's seeing red, and suddenly he literally choke slams you down against a table, nearly breaking the thing on impact... Y'all are just staring into each other's eyes with venom, then suddenly he's kissing you with so much force and hunger it knocks the wind out of you, but you just give as much as your gettin' which only fuels the fire in him. Woof best way of going from enemies to lovers, aggressive pure lust that turns to an unbreakable kinda love.

This just screams Low Honor!John and I'm in love.

And based on my tags no ones written about Low Honor!John!?!?!? WTF I guess I'm gonna have to change that!

Yep that's it! I'm writing about this! Brace yourselves y'all!

#Low honor John Marston #low honor!John #low honor John Marston x reader #low honor!John Marston x reader #dark!John Marston #dark!John Marston x reader #LH!John #LH!John Marston #LH!John Marston x reader #rdr #rdr2 #read dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #john marston #John Marston imagine #john marston x reader #john marston x you