#ramadam | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dutchvanwinkle · 1 year

Text

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 5 - Dutch x Reader

Hello again darlings! I hope those of you celebrating Easter / Ramadam / Passover are having a wonderful weekend, did you know this overlap only happens three times every century? How cool is that!! Whether you're observing a holiday or not, it's now time for us to all come together and fantasize about daddy Dutch :)

I would apologise for the wait between this chapter and the last, but I did say this fic would be relatively slow in updates. I wrote a good chuck of this chapter then decided I hated it, took some time away from it, came back, then realised it wasn't as bad as I'd made out in my head lol. It's a pretty fluffy one tbh, and even if it's not as long as the previous one I hope you still enjoy!

It's on ao3, too!

Summary: Your relationship with Dutch deepens when you spend more time with him after a stressful week.

Word count: 6,471

Content warnings: smut, mildly creepy dutch

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Despite everyone’s knowledge of the end of the academic year, not one of your group of friends took the responsibility of arranging the flat for you to all live in together for second year. So, once again, you and Karen were in the same one - with John, Abigail, Sean, and Javier across the hall in theirs. You didn’t mind much; you were all too deep in the habit of leaving your flats unlocked anyway so the others could wander in should they please. It was dumb, but you hadn’t been robbed yet and imagined that’s what it would take for you to change your ways.

Abigail had made extra dinner and you were the first to claim the portion, skipping across the hall and ambling in with a grin on your face. The two of you ate and chatted with the TV filling the background noise. Karen had joined not long after, and the three of you found yourselves sprawled on the sofa, tired from a full day.

Second year was noticeably harder, no more easing you into university life – the theory and assignments were tough. However, thanks to your hard work in the previous semester it wasn’t an impossible leap. It had been for some, Javier regularly coming around in an attempt to inconspicuously copy your coursework.

Just as you were mentally preparing yourself for the next day, the last before the weekend, your phone buzzed.

Naughty girl.

Dutch. You cleared your throat, pausing a moment before opening his message. He hadn’t taken any liberties with his possession of your phone number, and your inbox had been decidedly empty since the last time you saw him.

Was this the old-person way of flirting? Was it sexting? Hopefully, your response would allow room for clarification.

I was just in my photo gallery.

Oh. You smiled to yourself. Another message.

I almost dropped my phone.

Sorry, won’t happen again.

It better happen again, miss. I’ve already made good use of it, and now I’m in need of more.

Good god, the thought of him pleasuring himself to a photo of you brought heat all over your neck. “I’m just gonna use your bathroom,” you stood up to excuse yourself, getting no response from your friends.

Once inside, you looked around, knowing full well it was empty and quickly flicked the lock on the door, before pulling your top over your head. Glancing over your reflection in the mirror, you tried to figure out the best angle that’d reveal enough but not too much.

Eventually, you got an angle you were happy with, only your jaw in view and your tits on full display. You cropped the photo (including your bottom half was a bit too much, right now at least) when his name appeared in your notification bar again.

Too far?

Bless him, he could see you’d read his message but left him without a response for ten minutes. Without giving yourself time to chicken out, you sent the picture to him.

Sorry, I was distracted.

He read it instantly, and it took a full minute before you could see he was typing. Then the dots disappeared. Then reappeared. Then disappeared again. You smiled to yourself, pulling your top over your head and flushing the toilet for good measure, before venturing back out and returning to the sofa. Dutch finally decided on what to say once you’d made yourself comfy.

Come see me this weekend.

If only. A weekend being fucked repeatedly was just what you needed, exhaustion already settling into your mind thanks to your busy schedule being back in action. Unfortunately, said schedule was exactly why you couldn’t.

Can’t, sorry. I’m working tomorrow and Saturday.

Fuck work. I’ll pay you.

“What are you smiling at?”

You glanced up, Karen looking at you inquisitively, Abigail taking her attention off the TV in turn to see what the fuss was.

“Nothing?” you said casually.

“You’ve been grinning at that phone of yours for five minutes.”

“I have not been grinning.”

She raised a brow, the look on her face turning to intrigue.

“Please tell me it’s a guy. Or a girl. Or anything with a pulse,” Abigail pleaded, and you tutted while Karen cackled.

“I’ve told you I don’t have time for that crap! Besides, I’m perfectly fine as I am,” you said defensively, folding your arms and ignoring the buzz of a message on your phone.

“We all need a good screw now and again,” Karen said plainly, Abigail nodding in agreement.

Don’t we just. “Oh, and Maquire is providing that service well enough for you, is he?”

She shot you a glare, and as she was about to retort the main door opened, the man himself trailed by Javier and John.

“Yeah, alright,” John said, his phone held up against his ear while he set the bag of shopping on the counter.

“Hello ladies,” Javier greeted you all, beginning to put away their communal shop which was pathetically void of nutrients and taken up mostly by cans of beer.

Sean pulled off his boots, hopping a little before it gave and sighing proudly when it did. “Any of you want a drink?”

You shook your head, as did Abigail, but Karen held her hand out.

“Ah, that’s why I love ya,” he grinned, handing a can out to Karen who scoffed in disgust before snatching it from him.

“Okay, fine, yeah. I can do that. See you later,” John said, hanging up his call and letting his phone drop into his pocket.

“Everything okay?” Abigail asked while John played tetris stacking the beers in the fridge.

“Yeah, just my dad. He’s coming down this weekend.”

That got your attention. Surely not -

“Says Tilly’s been angling to see the city. He was just checking I was free to spend time with them.”

“Aw,” Abigail sat up, “will we get to see them?”

John shrugged, and your phone buzzed again.

I’m serious. read Dutch’s previous message to you, followed by his most recent one: Looking forward to seeing you.

You neglected to respond just yet, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself. That man worked fast.

“Where are you gonna take them?”

“God knows. Knowing Dad,” John sat down beside Abigail, “he’ll have already drafted up a full itinerary.”

You smirked at the thought, a warmth growing in your chest.

Dutch was fond of John’s friends. They were a decent bunch, and he’d been glad to see their familiar faces when he and Tilly arrived in the city the next morning, dropping their bags at the hotel before coming to visit John’s flat. He reminded himself repeatedly not to comment on the lack of cleanliness students seemed to thrive in.

It was nice to see John, along with Javier who he’d watched grow up with his son. Abigail was extra friendly, and thanks to a little birdie he understood why. She was a nice girl. They were all nice. But the one he wanted to see the most was unfortunately yet to descend on the flat despite John’s assurance that everyone swings round all the time.

“I’m going out for a cigarette,” Dutch announced, departing the flat and being met with the doorway to yours opposite him. He tried his luck, finding it unlocked, and mentally chastised you for being careless. He wasn’t sure which room was yours, though he thought it a good enough excuse to have wandered into the wrong flat should anyone ask. Two of the doors were ajar, and after a peek, he found them empty. The flat was quiet, and he decided there was no harm in trying the closed ones. He knocked on the next door, getting no response and so pushing it open.

Dutch smiled to himself as the air entered his nose; it smelled just like you.

Thanks to the strange layout, he could see the end of your bed and a slight bump under the duvet where your feet lay. “Tut tut,” he hummed as he took a couple of steps in, “you really should keep it locked – oh.”

His brows pulled together as his voice died in his mouth at the sight of you fast asleep and bundled up in your bed, completely flat out. He debated waking you but was distracted by seeing the inside of your room for the first time. A little nosy never hurt anybody.

Hands in his pockets, he observed the pictures up on your wall and smiled fondly at the ones including his drunken son. Then, he glanced over the perfume bottles lined up near your small desk mirror, then to the books and paper laid out beside your laptop accompanied by an empty mug from the previous day. It was then that he turned his attention back to you, hair ruffled with one arm out of the covers.

Dutch sat on the edge of your bed and brushed a strand of hair from your peaceful face. It was enough to make you stir, and you cranked your eyes open. He smirked as he observed your expression, going from alarmed to relaxed when you realised it was him, then back to alarmed when you realised it was him.

“You really should lock your flat, and your door,” he greeted.

You rubbed your eyes, wondering if the man had come to visit you in a dream though it felt undeniably real as you remembered your conversation with John the previous day. “Or perhaps,” you said around a yawn, “strange men shouldn’t let themselves in and sit on my bed.”

“Strange men?” Dutch looked mildly offended. “I’d hate to know what you do with familiar men.”

“Very funny,” you grumbled, pulling the covers up to your neck. “What time is it?”

“Ten thirty. I didn’t think you were one to sleep in late.” His hand rested on your lower leg, and the added pressure was soothing and lessened your motivation further for starting your day.

“I’m not. But I’ve got a long day today, so I’m treating myself,” you shut your eyes and felt Dutch shift his weight on the bed. You felt his warmth over you before you felt the kiss he pressed to your cheek, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of it. It awoke other unsavoury sensations that you usually repressed in the morning.

It was as though he sensed it, brushing his hand up your leg and moving to kiss your jaw, an added tenderness compared to its predecessor. You sighed contently, the comfort of Dutch’s soft chuckle reaching your ears. There was no option but to give in, your eyes fluttering open as you shifted onto your back, allowing Dutch to manoeuvre himself on top of you. His face filled with pride, but when he moved in to kiss you, you put your hand up as a barricade.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” you explained, and he huffed a laugh.

“I could care less. But, if you insist,” his hand travelled further up the path of your body, cupping your breast as his lips tended to your neck instead, which you bared for him gladly.

“Was it really worth coming all this way?” you asked, lazily watching him trail his lips around your skin.

“Of course,” he said, hardly breaking his path, “need I remind you of my lack of interest in desiring a thing. I prefer -”

“- to have it, right.” Dutch smiled up at you, and the tardy realisation hit you that you were now finishing his sentences. “How was the drive up?” you asked quickly, hoping to alleviate any teasing forming in his mind.

“Just swell,” he answered, trailing his hand underneath your pyjama top to knead your breasts. His fingers moved gently in circles, testing your tenderness as they neared your nipple and lightly tweaking the now erect buds. Then his mouth came down over the fabric, and he sucked one into his mouth, leaving a wet patch behind that he eyed fondly once he was done.

“You know,” you set up on your elbows, craning your neck to look at the door, “I really should lock my door. Just in case.”

Dutch placed his palm on your chest, applying pressure until you lay back down. “No no, you want to leave it unlocked, then you leave it unlocked.”

“I’m serious,” you attempted to sit up again but damn he was strong, “John lets himself in all the time.”

“Does he,” Dutch hummed, moving his head down to suck your nipple in again and released, “I ought to teach the boy some manners.”

“Dutch, it’s not funny. Let me lock the -”

As you tried to sit up Dutch applied his full weight onto you and mouthed at your neck while all the air was knocked from your lungs. Strong and heavy. It would be a comfort if you could only breathe, and grumbled incoherently at your body’s response to being trapped by him despite the danger of the situation.

“Now,” Dutch cooed, lifting his head and running his thumb along your chin, “don’t you worry. I’ve been fit to burst since you sent me those pictures.”

“I thought you -”

“I did, but it’s not the same.” With that, he eased off slightly as you gradually accepted this was a risk you’d just have to take, and wrapped his hand around your inner thigh to shift your legs apart. “Huh, looks like I’m not the only one.”

You frowned down to observe what he was looking at and were met with the moist material of your pyjama shorts. “Goddamnit.”

Dutch chuckled while he trailed his fingers up and down your mound, and it wasn’t long before you were grinding up in time with his movements. He always seemed to know the exact pressure and pace you wanted, and often reigned it back some so as to keep you frustrated. You were about to ask him to get on with it, considering the risk and limited time you had before your day started, when he removed his hand to undo his jeans and pull out his frustrated-looking cock. The man didn’t even look at you, nor give you any warning, before moving your shorts to the side and sliding right in. And curse your body once again, allowing him the smoothest of passages.

A sigh of relief left him, the sort one would make when sinking into a hot bath. He stayed there a moment, nosing at your neck and brushing his palm down your flank to your shorts, the fabric of which he bunched up in his hand. At least you weren’t wearing any underwear he would inevitably steal.

“How could this not be worth the journey,” he mused, and you realised he was in fact talking to himself. Still, you sighed out a laugh.

Dutch moved his torso off yours, straightening up to grab your outer thighs in each hand. His grip was tight, bruising almost, and he held you right where he wanted you as he pulled out and began thrusting in a slow, deep rhythm. His head tipped back, and you stayed watching him, the euphoric pleasure seeping over his face enough to keep you lubricated down below. It truly was nice to know you were the cause of such a response. Well, your body, at least.

“Now,” his heavy gaze met yours, and he leaned forward to plant one hand on your headboard and left the other gripping your hip, “let’s get to it, shall we?”

There was no room to answer before he deepened his thrusts, his thick cock thoroughly filling you. He was perfectly anchored to the bed and you, and being leant forward slightly enabled him to brush over the plush, pulsating spot inside you repeatedly. Swiftly building up your impending orgasm, you thanked your accommodation for not giving you squeaky beds despite their questionable quality.

Dutch’s grunts sounded at the same time as his thrusts, his lips pressed together to limit any other noise and you did the same, quiet gasps leaving you on occasion. “You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he asked through a laboured breath.

“Mhm,” you answered and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him further in and it was the last bit of motivation he needed to fuck you into your mattress until silently you came, back arching and hands gripping the duvet beneath. Dutch continued to fuck into you while your orgasm ebbed away, and you bore through the over-stimulation until he pressed his hips as far forward as he could, filling you up as you felt his cock twitch inside you.

Your breath evened out while he dropped his head forward to run a hand through his hair. “My memory did not do you justice.”

“That right?” you tilted your head in amusement and he hummed his agreement while slowly pulling out and doing a poor job of catching his spend. Guess you’d be changing your sheets today.

“Mind if I use your bathroom?” he asked and you gestured to the door to your ensuite in agreement. While he was there, you pulled some wipes out from your side table and cleaned yourself up.

“What have you got planned for today?” you asked as he ventured back in, doing up the fasten of his belt.

“Probably get some food, walk around and see what we can find,” he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, gesturing to your fire alarm that was tactically covered by a sock. “You really are a naughty girl.”

You snorted a laugh and sat up, while he leaned on your desk and cracked your window open to blow the smoke out. “Are they not going to wonder where you are now?”

“I told them I was going for a cigarette.”

“Huh, smart.”

He raised his brows in agreement as he took another drag. “What time are you working until today?”

“Late,” you shrugged. “I’m on until close.”

Dutch tutted. “Well, my hotel isn’t far from your work, so you may as well stay with me. I’ll wait up.”

“I don’t recall telling you where I worked.”

He smirked, tapping the ash out the window. “You didn’t.”

“Then how -”

“I have my ways. I can be rather resourceful when I want to be.”

“No shit,” you scoffed, ignoring the slight creepiness of him having that knowledge. “But no, thank you, I’ll be too tired.”

“The hotel bed is very comfortable.”

“I said no. Besides, you have Tilly with you,” you said, Dutch shifting his position to be half-seated on your desk.

“She has her own room.” After a final drag, he stubbed out his cigarette and flicked it out your window. He walked over and sat on your bed again, taking your hand in his. “Just consider it?”

“Fine,” you acquiesced, “I will see how I feel after my shift.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, a pleased smile forming on his face and moved in to kiss your cheek before standing. “Be sure to say bye before you head off.”

“Whatever you say,” you rolled your eyes, and with that, he departed, and the urge to shower became urgent.

You had ten minutes to spare after getting washed and dressed, and couldn’t find anything to busy yourself with so you ended up visiting John’s flat after all. Your friends were all there when you entered, Tilly offered you a hug, and Mr Van der Linde greeted you casually when you entered the flat, like he hadn’t been pounding into you less than an hour ago.

“Here she is,” John smiled, “you feeling better?”

Dutch’s expression hardened so fast you could feel it, and you grumbled internally at John once again unintentionally putting his foot in it. “Yeah, fine,” you said quickly, “just needed some sleep.”

“Perhaps you should skip some lectures and catch up some more,” John teased.

“You’re actually going?” Javier scoffed from the sofa, taking his attention away from Tilly’s phone where she appeared to be showing him a video.

“You know I have to,” you deflected, walking over to sit on the arm of the sofa beside him.

“Eighty percent, you can stand to miss a few.”

With a playful tilt of your head, you raised your brows accusingly. “Not worth getting into the habit.”

“Get me a copy of the notes?” he asked sweetly, smiling up at you and taking your hand in his to place a kiss on the back of it. As always, you could never resist, nodding your understanding with a smirk. “Ah, Mr Van der Linde -” Javier’s expression dropped as he look at the man in question, “don’t tell my pa, okay?”

Before he could respond, Sean decided to get a word in. “My da doesn’t mind me not going, says it’s better I don’t get my head filled by those pompous academic types. N-no offence, Mr Van der Linde,” he held his arms up placatingly.

“Now, why would I be offended by that?” he asked, genuinely, though Sean visibly began to sweat.

“No reason! No reason at all -”

“And on that note,” you cleared your throat, deciding to save Sean before he inevitably fell further into his self-made hole. “I should get going. Nice to see you both again,” you said, mainly to Tilly, and hoped Dutch’s devious expression in response wasn’t as noticeable to anyone else.

If another person asked you to make a cocktail, you’d scream. It’s a Friday, do these people not know how filled to the brim with students this place was? You weren’t even sure why you offered cocktails at this stupid hour; everyone was too inebriated to even appreciate it, and who needs to spend extra on a drink when they’re out to get as plastered as they can, anyway? Just order a shot and be done with it -

“Whiskey old-fashioned, please.”

You turned, half-ready to lose your job for punching a patron and were met with a smiling Dutch on the other side of the bar.

“Seriously?” you gestured around yourself, both as to why he’d ordered that and why he was there in the first place.

“Why not?”

“It’s busy,” you grumbled, making an exasperated show of preparing the glass.

“Fine,” he chuckled, “just a double on ice will do.”

You offered him a grateful smile, scooping a few ice cubes out of the tray.

“Do you always speak to customers that way?”

“Only the annoying ones,” you shrugged.

“I’m in half a mind to tell your manager,” he raised his brows, leaning on the bar in a way that enhanced his arms as his burgundy shirt stretched around them.

“Do that and I’ll ask you for ID. You forget I also have the power to withhold... other things,” you slid the drink over to him, and as you were about to announce the total, he handed you a twenty. “It doesn’t cost that much.”

“It’s a tip.”

“No,” you lamented, refusing to be his charity case, “it all goes in a pot anyway.”

“Consider it an apology for my being a difficult customer,” he answered immediately. “And as a sweetener, so you don’t withhold your oh so generous offerings.”

You tutted and placed the change to sit stubbornly in front of him on the bar. “I -” your attention was pulled to someone new coming up to the bar, “hold on a second.”

After pouring out two vodka cokes for them, you returned to Dutch. “Where’s John and Tilly?”

“John’s back at his flat, I think, and Tilly’s sleeping at the hotel,” he sipped at his drink, and you smirked as he tried to hide that this whiskey was not as fancy as his palate was used to.

“Will Tilly be alright on her own?” you asked.

“Of course. I plan to return soon anyway; I just need to pick something up first.”

“What do you need to – oh,” you realised what – or rather who – he was referring to. “I haven’t agreed to come back with you. Besides, I’m still working.”

“When do you usually finish?”

“When everyone leaves,” you narrowed your gaze at him accusingly.

“Ah,” he hummed in amusement. “It appears to be quietening down.”

He was right. The crowd was certainly beginning to thin out, and you hoped that in true student fashion, they would all leave to go somewhere busier once they noticed. “I still haven’t agreed.”

Dutch’s response was the inching of his fingers closing to yours, brushing them over your own secretively. “I would really like you to.”

“I’m really, really tired, Dutch.”

“That’s fine, you can go straight to sleep,” at the raise of your brows, he continued with a smile that inched on his face, “I mean it.”

“I could be a while,” you excused yourself further.

He finished the last of his drink, pausing a beat before finishing it. “Just text me when you’re done. Otherwise, I’ll stay here until everyone else has left.”

“Okay, alright,” you rubbed your brow, supposing it couldn’t be too bad if you did just go there to sleep. By now, your trust in him had grown to the point where you believed he would’ve put all the measures in place to ensure the two of you weren’t caught. “I’ll text you.”

“Good,” he said, pleased, and stood. “I’ll be going now, then.”

“You mean you don’t want another one of those?” you pointed to his empty glass.

He gave you an almost weary look, and a laugh slipped from you.

“I’m only kidding.”

He shook his head, and for the briefest of moments your heart skipped as you saw his rare, genuine smile.

“See you later,” you concluded the conversation.

Dutch folded his jacket over the arm and offered you a secretive wink. “I look forward to it.”

It was another hour before the bar closed, and you swiftly grabbed your bag from the back room, pulling your phone out to message Dutch at the earliest opportunity.

You opted for waiting outside, a small way down the street in case any of your colleagues caught you swanning off with an older man who’d visited the bar. He didn’t leave you waiting for long.

“That was sooner than I expected,” he greeted you, and on the short walk to the hotel, you answered his questions about how your shift went.

“This is an expensive hotel,” you slowed on the approach, and Dutch rested his hand comfortably on your lower back. Somehow, you always seemed to forget just how rich he was.

“You think they won’t let you in?” he teased, and you nodded genuinely. “Relax, darling.”

That worked. Your body softened involuntarily, and walking in with him felt natural, easy. What you’d expected otherwise you weren’t sure, still hyper-aware of how you must look to a passer-by at this moment. Or perhaps they didn’t care. Dutch certainly didn’t.

The two of you took the lift, walking down the well-decorated hallway until Dutch stopped and swiped his card on a door. You let out a breath once inside, kicking off your shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed without a second thought.

“You and Javier seem to have an interesting relationship,” he commented, untying his shiny black shoes and placing them neatly by the door.

“What do you mean by that?” you asked defensively.

Dutch shrugged casually, clearly a façade. “You seem close. I wondered if there was anything there.”

You scowled at him, too tired for this line of questioning. “Obviously not -” you paused, remembering yourself despite your newfound anger. “Well, we might’ve had a drunken kiss on our first week, but it didn’t progress beyond that.”

“Hm. I thought as much.”

“What is wrong with you?” you said sharply, “why would you ask that?”

“I was only curious,” he held his hands up before unbuttoning his shirt. “I didn’t realise it was a crime to ask.”

“It’s not. You’ve no right to be jealous.”

“Who said I was?” he asked, leaning into a chuckle and it only aggravated you even more.

You huffed out some of your anger. “It’s pretty obvious. I’m not stupid. And you’re not as good at hiding things as you think.”

His face altered from unbothered to mildly entertained. “I don’t see why you’re getting so defensive. It was only a question.”

Your mouth opened to let a retort pass through, but none came. The fucker wasn’t wrong, he had only asked. In your exhausted state, you questioned whether you’d read too much into it, and frowned at the ground while rubbing the stress from your brow. Keeping so much contained was a problem in times like this, when emotions escaped out into the world. “I don’t - I just -” you began, feeling yourself getting worked up.

“Okay, alright, darling. Come here,” Dutch sat beside you, opening his arms and you tucked yourself into the warm embrace.

“Sorry,” you sighed quietly, “this is why I didn’t want to come. I get grouchy when I’m tired.”

“I can tell,” he teased, but the kiss placed on the crown of your head balanced it out. “You’ve been sick, John said?”

“Not sick. Just tired this week, that’s all.”

Dutch paused, tightening his arms around you. “It doesn’t look like you’re going to have any time to rest in the near future.”

“I’ll take a weekend off work at something,” you mumbled, almost on autopilot as it wasn’t the first time you’d been berated for being too much of a try-hard.

“Why do I get the impression you’re lying?” he asked gently, and your responding laugh was mirthless. “I like most things about you, except this.”

“Except what?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder to catch his eyes.

“This incessant need you have to work yourself to fatigue. It’s unhealthy.”

“It’s temporary,” you insisted.

“If you would only let me -”

“Don’t you dare offer me money again.” That was a place you’d never go to, a sense of pride far too strong to accept his help. You could do it. You just... need to complain occasionally. And maybe have someone that could help alleviate the stress using tried and true methods. “Wait, you said most. What else don’t you like about me?”

He paused, as though he hadn’t expected that question. “I suppose how little time I get to spend with you.”

“That’s a cop-out.”

Dutch laughed, releasing you from his embrace and standing to continue getting undressed. A feeling resembling awe settled in your body at how proudly he stood, in only his underwear, while finding a pair of joggers to wear for bed. He hooked his thumbs into the band of his pants but paused, slyly looking over his shoulder at you. You swiftly averted your gaze.

“You’re allowed to look, I don’t mind,” he said with amusement, and you only looked back once you’d heard his underwear come off and joggers come on. You were far too tired to go another round, but you feared your body would decide otherwise if you caught a glance of him fully nude. “Here,” he passed a plain t-shirt to you, “I suspect you don’t have anything to wear.” After you took it, his face fell slightly. “Not that I mind you sleeping with nothing on.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, for whatever reason wanting to get dressed where he couldn’t see. “Does the hotel have spare toothbrushes?”

“Sure, in the bathroom,” he pulled back the cover of the bed and got in, clasping his hands over his stomach. “Help yourself to whatever.”

You did, brushing your teeth, washing your face, and changing into Dutch’s t-shirt. It was clean, but it still held his underlying scent. He was in the same position when you re-entered the bedroom and lifted the covers for you to get in. “Thanks,” you said, laying down and marvelling at how soft the bed was, a yawn escaping thanks to your newfound comfort.

Dutch reached over and flicked the switches above the side table, turning off all the lights except the lamp next to him. Then, he brushed the back of his knuckle tenderly over your temple, and it took all you had to fight an immediate descent into sleep. You took the opportunity to shuffle closer to him, and he extended his arm so you could lay on his chest while he was propped up a little against the headboard. “Get some sleep, now,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble in the low light of the room.

As you melted into him some more, the bare skin of his chest warm and soothing, he put on his glasses from the bedside table and picked up his book. “Aren’t you sleeping?”

“I’ll sleep better if I read a little first. Don’t mind me, though.”

“Okay.” You pecked his lips, and once you were re-settled on his chest sleep came easier than ever.

The gentle motion of fingertips slowly grazing the middle of your back was the first sensation to greet you upon awakening, and you blinked your eyes open to the hazy filter of morning sun through the window. You were nestled comfortably into Dutch, still using his chest as a pillow and glanced up, finding the man himself in somewhat of a daydream as he looked out the window. He noticed the small movement, though, and offered you a warm smile. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you half-yawned, stubbornly closing your eyes to nestle further into his chest. How he was more comfortable than the bed itself you weren’t sure.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Like a log. You?”

“Just fine. You’re nice to wake up to.” He placed his palm flat on your back, holding you to him.

“You aren’t so bad yourself. What time are you seeing John today?”

“I think we’re going for a late breakfast; I suppose whenever he’s ready. We have a bit of time, if you want anything brought up to the room?”

“No, no, I’m okay. Thanks though. Actually,” you shifted up onto your elbow, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and internally deciding you preferred Dutch’s hair in the morning, a little messy from the night. “I wouldn’t mind using that shower.”

“Be my guest,” he said politely. It was nice to lay like this with him, you’d expected him to have his hands all over you as soon as you’d awoken, though perhaps he was tired. If anything, he was more reserved than usual, and you hoped he wasn’t beginning to have second thoughts. You knew better than to question him first thing in the morning and moved to a seated position before swinging your legs off the bed.

“Appreciate it.” You picked your clothes up from their crumpled heap on the floor and carried them into the bathroom with you before having the most glorious shower you’d had in some time.

Checking your phone once you were finished, you realised you’d been in the bathroom for a full thirty minutes. Whoops.

“Sorry,” you said as soon as you opened the door, Dutch seated on the bed, now dressed and rolling up his sleeves. “That shower was a little too nice.”

The smile Dutch offered you was warmer, more awake, and more like himself than he had been previously. “Good,” he offered out his hand which you promptly took and pulled you towards him to stand between his legs, and he wrapped his arms around your lower back. “I’d say you’ve earned it.”

You chuckled easily, glad to find out nothing was wrong, and he simply hadn’t woken up yet.

“What time are you working?” he asked, while you ran a hand through his hair and settled it on his shoulder.

“Early afternoon. I’m off tomorrow, but I’ve got work to do – what time are you leaving?”

“About midday. Don’t worry about it,” he placed a kiss on your sternum, “I’d prefer it if you rested instead.”

“I’ll try,” you nodded with a snort.

“I would like,” he stood up, holding your hands in his, “to see you more frequently, if possible.”

“I’d like that,” you looked up at him, and the deal was sealed with a kiss. “I’m not sure exactly when, but -”

“We’ll work something out. I have your number,” he said conspiratorially, an alluring half-smile making him even more irresistible than he already was. “But I fear Tilly will be up soon, I don’t want her catching you on the way out.”

“Good call,” you agreed, breaking out of the embrace to pick up your bag and double-check you hadn’t forgotten anything. “Have a good weekend.”

“We will,” he pulled you in for a kiss, one that was tender and slow and left you a little breathless once you’d parted your lips from his. “Thanks for coming to stay with me.”

“I’ve got to do my part for the community,” you shrugged, and his face dropped into playful annoyance.

“Oh, that’s how it is?”

You laughed, edging towards the door though he managed to pat your ass in reprimand before you were out of reach. “I might add this to my volunteering work on my CV, come to think of it.”

Dutch laughed heartily, pressing his tongue into his cheek and shaking his head. “You truly can be a wicked woman.”

With a proud, final smile, you stepped forward for a kiss goodbye then opened the door, checking the coast was clear before stepping out. At the risk of Tilly hearing you, you offered Dutch a simple nod before departing, which he returned.

It wasn’t a short walk back to your accommodation, but it wasn’t long, either. The weather was good, and you were thankful it’d been nice for Dutch and Tilly’s visit up. It wasn’t lost on you that there was a slight spring in your step, every meeting with Dutch making your heart feel that extra bit lighter, and life feel an extra bit more accommodating. After last time, you’d attributed it to the sex, to the rush and release that was a rarity in your everyday. But perhaps it was him, and while this newfound feeling was a nice one to experience, the low hum of guilt and the prospect of where this avenue of exploration would lead you left a slightly bitter taste in your mouth.

There was a possibility that Dutch’s philosophical suggestions were imprinting on you, but you actively decided not to dwell on the many possibilities and instead focus on that, for now, you had something that made your chest grow warm and your breath seep from your lungs. Perhaps this was what you were missing, a way to dispel your worries and fears even for a short while. And perhaps, on some level, this was something you deserved.

#dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde x f!reader #dutch van der linde #dutch x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfiction #my stuff

92 notes · View notes