#javier Escuella fluff

[cowboyfromh3ll]

I saw u say i do hcs so i thought i should ask for some hcs 'cause ur one shots r great so ur hcs will obviously be too. Anyways, can we get hcs about Javier having a crush on a girl who's nice and reserved, a bit shy too. Like, what he'd do to impress her? How will he talk to her? It's more fluff but u can add some nsfw because ur style in writing is just *chef's kiss*

HC for Javier crushing on a shy and reserved fem!reader (smut)

warnings: smut, some humiliation

Javier is absolutely smitten

Many people think he's some smooth talking romantic, but we saw the way he was acting around those two women at the bar in Valentine

The way he acts around women he wants is quite frivolous 

At first he think your shyness means you don’t want to talk to him or straight up don’t want anyone's company, and he’s very discouraged by it

Sometimes he’ll see you walking past and say “Why don’t you talk to me more often?” to which you laugh awkwardly to

Cries himself to sleep that night

Will very hesitantly try and talk you or ask for your opinion on things to strike conversation

When you ask what’s up he would have realized he didn’t think his bluff through so makes something up

Ends up asking what you think of his outfit

To which you say you think it's lovely and call him stylish

The compliment makes his year

He trips over his words and becomes excited, grasping at anything to get your attention and keep it

His excitement can be described as juvenile, as he finds any excuse to try and be around you

Will learn how to sew simply so he can sit there with you while you do your chores 

And so Miss Grimshaw doesn’t yell at him for distracting you while working, he’s working too he would argue

Notices you come round the campfire when he’s playing or singing, so he starts doing it almost every night

Sometimes he’ll sing love songs for you indirectly, even if people are around and nobody knows it’s meant for you, Javier will mean it in his head

Will ask you for song requests personally 

He’s pretty awkward at first when it comes to crushes but once he advances in them he’ll get more confident

For a while he sorta just stood around you and asked you mundane little questions, followed you around like a lost puppy

Your shyness would keep you from giving more fleshed out answers, but your brief responses would not discourage him

But once the two of you started talking more he makes sure he’s the one you talk to the most

Definitely the type of guy who keeps your attention by making you laugh. Anytime you two are together it's all giggles from you and it's SO obvious to anyone around you guys that y’all are flirting

Definitely the jealous type as well

If he sees you talking to another guy his anger will probably cause him to be more bold with you

Eventually starts dedicating songs to you

Once he starts getting real bold he’ll say more flirty stuff

“Can I stay in your tent with you tonight? It’s a bit cold.” 

Once you start dating he INSISTS you don’t lift a finger and will do your chores for you

His previously learned sewing skill comes in real handy

NSFW

Think your shyness is so so cute and sexy

Despite his own initial nerves, he tries to be audacious for the both of you during sex

Will lead many of your sessions together

Always starts nice and slow and takes things at your pace

Unwraps you like a present but very carefully as though your skin is made of paper and he might actually tear you

His nerves shine through as he undresses you with shaky hands

Will constantly ask you questions and cup your face so you can speak to him while looking him in the eyes

His confidence increases the longer you are together and become comfortable with one another

This man can fuck rough, starkly contrasts your own shy personality

Has so much stamina, but will slow it down if you ask

Loves making you blush by talking dirty, will whisper absolute filth in your ear if it means just getting you to blush

Will nip at your earlobe while whispering to you, sees just how wet he can get you from his words alone

Praises you so much during sex “My perfect girl, you’re doing so good.” “Yes, just like that preciosa, you’re so good at this.”

Loves the way the praise makes you blush just as much as his dirty talk

Is so lewd when you two are going at it, always encourages you to be just as bold

Enjoys your quiet personality in front of others just to see how loud he can make you scream in private

Puts you in embarrassing positions just to see how flustered you get 

Sometimes he'll secretly grope you in public to see the way you squeak

Absolutely tease, gets so much enjoyment from watching the way you squirm because of how shy you are 

[robin-writess]

Hey I was wondering if you could make one with Javier escuella, it could be anything you want, I just love your writing, it’s so good🫶🏻

I decided to do a little stargazing drabble, I hope you like it!

🎀stars & cuddles🎀

Javier Escuella x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: just watching the stars and cuddling with your beautiful bf<3

You fit so comfortably in your lover’s arms. The sparkling stars and moon illuminate the beauty of his face so perfectly. His hair sways in the wind as he pulls you closer, kissing your cheek softly.

“Look,” Javier points to a particular star in the sky, “you see that really bright one right there?”

“Mhm,” you hum in response.

“That’s how bright my heart shines for you, mi amor,” he smiles so sweetly at you.

You giggle, a soft blush forming across your cheeks as you hide your face in his chest.

“No no,” he chuckles and lifts your head back up, “don’t hide that pretty face from me, sweetheart.”

The way his eyes sparkle in the moonlight, the way his features fit so perfect on his face. Oh how precious he is to you. You couldn’t ask for anything better.

His hand caresses your cheek slowly before he pulls you in for a kiss. One of the softest kisses you’ve ever experienced. He’s so gentle with you. Treats you like glass, like you’ll break if he handles you too hard.

“You’re so beautiful,” Javier said under his breath, “you know that, y/n?”

[saintbarou]

tags: no warnings/fem reader/fluff/obvious self-insert/ use of french/ love confessions/ domestic/kissing/reader used to be a maid.

synopsis: you love javier - to madness, to ruin. to sanity, to salvation.

You’ve been murmuring under your breath, Javier can hear it over the sound of others in camp waking up. Through the rustling and clinging of tin cups your voice is clear through the commotion as you pass the comb through his hair one more time. It is one of the few mornings he doesn’t have morning guard duty, blessing him with the sight of the dawn breaking over the curve of your cheek and the flutter of your lashes. It allows him time to get ready with you and you are giving enough to comb his hair for him.

You’ve always liked his hair you had mentioned and are often found playing with the ends when he has it tied up.

Javier can tell the language you mutter in, it’s french and it sounds like a rhyme. He hums softly to the rhythm of your words before he asks you.

“I didn’t know you spoke french.” His voice is soft, as if it might break the soft bubble you two exist in. You’re humming is lost and you pause, instead bringing the tip of the comb to the crown of his head and begin to part his hair.

“I don’t really, I just know a few phrases.” You say as you let the comb slide swiftly down the ink of his hair. You are jealous of how feather soft he can keep it, when living rough like this.

“My mistress was tutored in French when she was a little girl. What she learned rubbed off on me.”

“So what are you muttering right now?”

You hum, letting the comb lose itself in his tresses before letting your hand collect the strands to begin making his ponytail.

“It’s like the saying he loves me, he loves me not but more detailed.” You explain, holding his hair gently so as to not tug on it while you lean to get his usual hair tie he had handed to you earlier when you had first asked to help him with his hair.

“Say it for me?” Javier asks, a cheeky smile on his lip as he eyes you from the corner of his vision. He catches your smile, the gentle scrap of your nails against the back of his neck makes it feel like there’s a bird in his chest.

You whined the hair tie around his hair once.

“Je l’aime un peu.”

You wrap the hair tie around his hair twice.

“Beaucoup.”

You wrap the hair tie around his hair thrice.

“Passionnément.”

You wrap the hair tie around his hair one last time, and lean to gentle tug at the strands of hair he likes to have in front of his face. Your hand comes to trace his features with soft reverence - the thin edge of your nail running along the scar on his left cheek that you press a tender kiss to. You utter the next part of the phrasing quietly as if to ensure only Javier hears it and no one else.

“À la folie.”

I love you to madness, to insanity. Fervently, wildly, desperately, senselessly and so many other wonderful synonyms . You find it within yourself unable to utter the next part as if the words were lead on your tongue. Not when the words you have just uttered capture you perfectly, as you let your eyes settle and count the long black lashes that fan around Javier’s dark eyes. His voice pulls you from your daze and you find your eyes pinned to his lips.

“And?” Your eyes do not move at all as you utter,

“Pas du tout.”

“What does that part mean?”

“It means not at all.” You whisper to him leaning in close enough to feel his lips brush against yours. It is bitter, like the taste of tobacco on the backs of your teeth, to resist the urge to kiss him.

“And what part do you feel towards me?”

“À la folie. I love you to madness, to insanity, to ruin.” It’s easy for you to admit that to him - it’s always easy to tell Javier you love him. Until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east and until the oceans bring the mountains crumbling down. You love Javier with all you have to offer and maybe he can see it with how gently it is you arrange a strand of his hair away from his face.

Whether Javier comes to you as a lover or executioner you are always ready to accept him.

Javier does not say anything back but you can see how his eyes twitch when he blinks slowly and his throat bobbles. Your gaze is kind and understanding; you press the gentlest kiss against his, undoubtedly pure in this wicked world. A mere press of your lips to his - Javier presses back just as gently and it is enough to profess all that can not be said.

I love you.

I know.

I can’t say it, not yet.

I know, it’s okay.

You pull away with a kind smile, one that makes your eyes wrinkle at the edges; making them soft with adoration. Javier is as well groomed as he is any other day and it makes you proud to have your part in that. You rise from your position at his side to begin to make your way to the opening of your tent. A warm hand goes to yours, stopping you and brings your attention back to him as if it ever truly leaves. Javier stands now, his thumb swiping over the slopes of your knuckles. His hand is different to yours; his palms wide and squared with scars all over. It’s almost painful to see the difference when compared with your delicate and dexterous hands. Your hand is brought to his lips, adorned by his facial and you giggle bubbly and bright at how it feels when the hairs tickle the smooth skin of your inner wrist. He places a kiss where your pulse can be felt and you know he feels how it jumps at the feeling of his lips against your skin.

“Thank you.” His dark eyes are soft when he gazes at you. It’s too much to look at, so you avert your gaze and feel the heat on your face. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes,” you smile softly - a blushing maiden all tender hearted and sweet eyed. “Always.”

It makes him nod his head and grin, tipping his head at you in farewell to begin the day.

Farewell, until tonight that is.

[zhimaqiu]

“This God damned wind”

Word count: 900-1000

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57341785

Paring: You & Javier Escuella, no established feelings - could be read however your heart desires

Reader info: Gender neutral reader, 2nd person, past tense

Summary: Reverse comfort, but with a dosage of restraint.

You notice Javier passing time at the edge of the camp and he doesn't seem entirely okay to you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was that song again. The sad song one could only heard late at night if a certain someone couldn't sleep.

"Angel de amor, tu pasion no la comprendo..."

You raised your head from a book you tried to read at the camp table when Javier's quiet voice reached your ears.

He was sitting alone, at the edge of the camp in Horseshoe Overlook, leaning on a trunk that was usually occupied by John. But scar-face was asleep, so Javier could enjoy the solitude; or maybe he simply felt like singing, wanting to distance himself enough so he doesn't wake the others. Whatever it was, that night Javier's voice... broke a couple of times. It wasn't a challenging or a new song for him – didn't make sense that Javier's angelic voice could falter.

Keeping the book in your hands, you made your way to him, not caring much about making noise. Bill, Sean and Reverend were dead asleep, either snoring or buried under covers. The cold of Heartland's nights wasn't as bad as the one in the mountains, but Miss Grimshaw kept reminding everyone this still ain't a tropical island. You had a thick coat on you arms, Javier however lacked anything on his.

"You alright, Javier?" You stopping next to him when he finished the lyrics.

"I'll be fine. No need to worry," he answered without looking at you.

His fingers still worked on the guitar's strings elongating the melody until he finally letting it die when you knelt next to him.

"You shouldn't sit on the ground." A pat on the grass let you know how chill and wet it was. "Might catch a cold from that and we don't have the greatest doctor in the camp."

"Are you sure Miss Grimshaw's spirit hasn't possessed you? Who knows, maybe it travels between us when she's asleep."

You laughed at his joke and patted his arm. "Come on, let's get back to the camp fire. No one will mind if you sing there."

"I ain't exactly concerned with that." He looked at you, his eyes reflecting the moonlight and fire. "It's the only time Marston doesn't occupy my favorite spot."

"You can always tell him to get. He doesn't own the place," you grumbled, looking back at his tent. It was time to get the rest of the tents to look like that. Wind could get into Javier's way too easily. It barely protected him from rain.

"Yea..." His voice was more raspy when he drifted away for a moment, straining his answer. "But I want to let him enjoy himself a bit more after that mountain business."

"Do that too much and he will be even more spoiled than he already is."

"Can't get much worse."

You both laughed, Javier leaning back and looking up the stars as he calmed down. The leaves, shaking on the wind, covered the most of the bear constellations, but the view to the west was free as the west itself. No wonder so many members of the gang subconsciously looked in that direction when enjoying the view. What a coincidence.

"You... might be right about that cold." Javier shivered a little standing up and offering you a hand to stand up. "The campfire doesn't sound so bad after all. Maldito viento..."

"I think Charles made some... cherry juice. Not sure what that exactly is, but he got some cinnamon in it. Expressive stuff. Real good and sweet when you warm it. Sounds good?"

"For sure," he responded with a smile.

Once you were back at the fire, he leaned on his guitar as he watched you take out the jug with the juice and warmed it on the open fire. His gaze hazy as he began drifting away from the warmth and the delicious scent. Sweet aroma of cherries mixed with faint spiciness of cinnamon melting his previous worries away.

You poured the drink from the metal cup you warmed it up in into a glass and passed it to him, warning him that you weren’t sure how hot it is. He thanked with a nod and smelled it, a cat-like smile making his face relax. It only widened further when he tasted it.

“You know, amigo," you began trying your best in his language, "you deserve some good, warm rest." You reaches for a blanket and threw it over his shoulders. “You did great on that last job.”

In fact, he simply looked sick and didn’t act nor smelled like typical drunk Javier. You didn’t have a good excuse to check his temperature, so you figured the best way is to just prevent it the best you could, without making him think you worry that much.

He swayed from side to side, melting away. Fever must have taking him over when he leaned on your shoulder, his forehead brushing against your neck. You sighed and patted his shoulder, feeling how hot it was.

“Come on, time for bed,” you encouraged him and pulled him towards his tent.

No complain left his mouth when he lied down setting the glass down. You tugged him in and took of his hat and loosened his jet black hair. Javier yawned and sniffed again reaching for your arm.

“Thanks,” he murmured and smiled when you put your hand on his, squeezing reassuringly.

“As Dutch would say," you made fun on his voice, "We. Need you strong.”

You barely heard his little chuckle before he quickly fell asleep and felt his hand slip away. He didn't need much. Just a friend to get him there without pushing it.

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

[ahqkas]

hello love!! may i please request some headcanons for arthur morgan and charles smith when they see their partners wearing their shirt? (and maybe john and javier? only if you’re up for it of course!) xx

PRETTY LIKE THE SUN ; arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, charles smith

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2 MASTERLIST!

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

𝜗𝜚 ARTHUR MORGAN !

when arthur saw you wearing one his shirts, his eyes instantly softened and his lips parted slightly. the sight of you struck him — seeing something of his on you, so intimately close, filled him with a mix of emotions

“well, don’t you look just perfect,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. his irises never left your form, taking in the way the shirt enveloped you. it was an old, worn shirt, softened by years of wear, and seeing it on you brought a warmth to his chest

“you look better in this than i ever did,” he murmured, his voice rough with affection. his fingers brushed over the fabric, lingering on your arm as if committing the moment to memory

“but i gotta say, seein’ you in my shirt . . . it makes me feel all warm.”

he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, each kiss a silent vow of his affection and presence. holding you close, he rested his chin on top of your head. “you can wear my shirts anytime you like,” he whispered, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “makes me feel real good, knowin’ you want to.”

he’s such a sweetheart about it

𝜗𝜚 JOHN MARSTON !

his eyes widened slightly at the unexpected sight before him. there you were, standing by the window, wrapped in one of his old, worn shirts. the shirt hung loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long, and the hem brushing against your thighs

a slow smile spread across john's face, his amusement evident. “well, look at you,” he said, his voice tinged with a chuckle. he stepped closer, his eyes roaming over you. “that’s my shirt, ain’t it?”

his heart swelled at the sight

“you look real good in it, darlin’”

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. “you can wear my shirts anytime you want, darlin’,” he whispered into your hair. “hell, you can have ’em all if it makes you happy.”

this man wouldn’t shut up about it, he’d annoy you for the next days, even weeks

but he wouldn’t admit he’s replaying the picture of you, standing in front of him in one of his shirts. the thought made him feel deep things, things he wouldn’t even admit when drunk on alcohol

from that day, he wants you to wear his clothes every single day

𝜗𝜚 JAVIER ESCUELLA !

javier strolled into your shared tent, a soft tune humming from his lips as he shook off the day’s dust. his eyes immediately caught sight of you, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. you were wearing one of his shirts, the fabric loose and flowing around you, and the sight stopped him in his tracks

“. . . is that my shirt you’re wearing?”

he would be either so confused or in denial of this happening

but once the feeling dropped off, a wide, delighted smile spread across his face

even his eyes smiled

“you look absolutely beautiful,” he murmured, his voice tinged with awe

reaching out, javier gently took your hands in his, lifting them to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “you always look beautiful, but seeing you in my shirt . . . you’re breathtaking, mi amor.”

javier held you close, his hands lightly caressing your palms. “you can wear my shirts anytime you like,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. “in fact, i’d love it if you did.”

the thought of you wearing his clothes makes you even more his than you already are

𝜗𝜚 CHARLES SMITH !

charles walked into your shared tent, the weight of the day's tasks evident in his tired steps. as he glanced up, he froze momentarily, taking in the sight before him. you stood there, illuminated by the soft glow of the lantern, wearing one of his old shirts. the fabric was too big for you, sleeves hanging past your wrists and the hem falling almost to your knees, but the sight of you in it struck him deeply

“hey there,” he said softly, a warm smile spreading across his face. his eyes softened, filled with a mix of surprise and admiration. the man moved closer, his gaze never leaving you, taking in every detail of how his shirt enveloped your form

you smiled at him. “i hope you don’t mind,” you murmured, glancing down at the large shirt

charles’ heart swelled with adoration at you words. he reached out, his big, calloused hand gently lifting your chin so he could look into her eyes. “mind? not at all,” he said, his voice low and tender. “you look beautiful. it means a lot to me that you wanted to feel close.”

he brushed a soft kiss across your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “if you ever need anything — comfort, warmth, just a piece of me — you take whatever you need.”

he’s ready to gift you all of his shirts

[polakina]

how they fuck you

red dead redemption headcanons #2

hc masterlist // masterlist

on my third playthrough of rdr2 and i cannot bring myself to play low honour. why do i put myself through this?

also this is ridiculously long, got a little carried away but i shall not apologise

rating: explicit

-

is always gentle with you at first

delicate touches, lingering kisses, gazing eyes at your every movement or ministration

"what do you want, mi amor? tell me"

loves to hear you beg for him, want him

it just turns him on even more

dirty talk through the ROOF

this man knows how to talk you through it

"fuck you feel amazing, hermosa. yeah, just like that, huh? anything for you"

will eat you out for days if he could

never really tried it before, even when he lived in Mexico, he never really gave it a go

but with you, he wanted to try everything. whatever you wanted, he was up for it

so when you first asked him, he was nervous as hell, but willing to try

he found out he loved it and does it every single fucking time he had you all to himself

buries himself between your thighs like a man starved, his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs to keep you still

his tongue worked fucking wonders on your pussy, knowing exactly where to focus his attention, loving how you always moaned a little softer when his tongue dipped inside your cunt

fucks you slow, savouring the moment when he can

loves to have you riding him. seeing you on top spurs something inside him

his hands grip your waist fiercely, guiding your hips to grind against him, pulling sweet, elicit moans from your throat

loves to cut your clothes from your body with his knife

it's so much more satisfying than just taking them off with his hands

kinda likes quickies. prefers taking his time but there's something about pulling you away for a few minutes to have his way with you behind the protection of a tree or something that he loves

usually happens out on missions, so there's risk of the gang seeing you guys, but what's life without a little risk?

you could be on watch beside your tent while everyone sleeps, and javier will come over to keep you company

but it doesn't take long for his hand to slip into your pants as he whispers all sorts of things in your ear as he sits behind you while you try and continue your watch duty

was terrible at aftercare before, never really understood the in's and out's of it

but learned eventually with you, when you explained it to him

now he's at your beck and call whenever you need it

wear this man's hat around camp and that's all he needs to pull you to a secluded tent

but wear it while you fuck him? arthur would die happy in that exact moment

likes to call you 'cowgirl' when you ride him. you always roll your eyes at how stupid it sounds, but it doesn't stop him

the two of you don't have all the time in the world. being one of dutch's most trusted members, he's needed away from camp a lot more than anyone else

so you've both learned the art of being fast

and it doesn't take long for him to make you cum

never asks for them, but loves blowjobs

he likes to draw in his tent when he's got time to himself, so when he sees you come in and sink to your knees in between his lap, he can't think of a better sight

the absolute king of praises (have you heard how he talks to his horse?? imagine him talking to a woman oml)

not a fan of degrading, he never saw the appeal, but uses other methods to 'punish' you

"what do you want, darlin?" he'd say as he's fucking you from behind, your face pressed into the pillow to stifle your moans, your ass in the air held up by his hands on your hips. "oh babygirl, you wanna cum, huh? then you can beg me for it, can't you?"

will edge you for days

especially when he knows he's going to be away for a few days afterwards

definitely grabs the headboard

mainly for his own stability to be able to thrust into you harder as you moan his name into the room

has his hands on you at all times

holding your hands above your head by your wrists, holding your face against the mattress with his hand on the back of your neck, curling his fingers in your hair and gently yanking your head back when he pounds into you

when you do get a night away from camp, he wants to make it last the whole night

takes his time with you to the point where he's practically teasing you for hours

takes his time undressing you, kissing every part of your body, touching every part of you until his fingerprints were practically imprinted into your skin

give this man some guidance or it's like walking through a maze blindfolded

learned a lot with you

figured out really quick what you liked and what you didn't like, what places he could touch you that would send your head spinning

this eventually led him to learn how to be very sneaky in public

he could touch you in such simple places, in such an innocent way that no one else would think anything of it

but you'd know, and you wouldn't stop it

you like the way he touched your neck? he was all over that shit, cupping your cheek, his fingers tickling your neck

you liked his hands in your hair? his fingers tangled at the base of your neck, pulling your hair slightly to tease you

his hand would rest on your thighs, fingers slowly creeping up your thigh while you were all sat around the campfire

you'd always give him a little glare, which he would ignore, a goofy smirk on his face

and the way he fucked you was no different

he had mastered the art of teasing your body and your limits, and put that knowledge in every time he had you alone

"come on, marston. stop teasin' me like this"

he'd always smirk, working his way down your body in a painfully slowly manner

"i'm takin' my time with you, sweetheart. you just lay back and relax. lemme take care of you"

loved to make you feel good before he even thought about himself

but when he was too pent up, he came a lot quicker than he wanted

but he made up for it when tending to you afterwards until you were practically pushing him away, too sensitive for his expert fingers

not the best at going down on you, but makes up with experience

but what he's really good with is his hands

his fingers

they know exactly what they're doing when he pushes them inside your soaked pussy

curling at that devastating spot inside you that makes you crumble to your knees

loves to be on top of you, seeing your face contort when he pushes inside you slowly, deeply

he's basic, a lover of missionary, but seeing your face and watching your body writhe under his grip is really what turns him on

[agyraty]

Can I ask for Javier to be actually awkward around Reader? A lot of people make him a womanizer, but I want to see him be dorky and awkward <3

Just some fluff like a cute first date or something!! Please and thank you!!

Of course!! I wrote this based off of like, one of their first interactions. Basically the beginning of it all. I was gonna make two parts for this, the next being based of maybe the confession or the first date.

Sorry for it being short though!

- - - - -

I don’t bite

Javier Escuella x reader

- - - - -

Javier was widely known around camp for his skills, not to mention when everyone would gather around the fire at night, and he would play and sing some magnificent songs. You always found him interesting. You loved watching the way he would intently strum away at the strings of his guitar without a worry in the world, the way it sounded like a lullaby.

But you and him didn’t talk much. You were always to nervous to talk to him, why wouldn’t you be? He was a handsome man, standing tall, and watching everyone through his narrowed dark eyes. And he never seemed like he wanted anything to do with you, whenever he would actually speak to you, he was always quiet, never meeting your eyes with his.

Tonight was like often nights, some were drunk, or getting there, and others were either sleeping or isolating themselves. You were one of the only sober ones left, along with Javier. You sat on a log, staring at the fire and the way its yellow and Orange flames burned together, enjoying the way it kept you warm on this cold night.

Javier was here to, leaning on a log closely sat to yours as he worked at tuning the strings of his guitar. Every now and then your eyes would drift away from the fire to watch him as he worked, the way his fingers twisted the nobs, the way his eyes gazed upon his instrument with care.

You took in a deep breath, mustering up the courage to speak. “You’re really good at playing that thing.” You spoke softly, immediately looking away and back to the fire.

Javier stops what he’s doing, his fingers stop and hover just over the knobs. “What?” His voice sounds hesitant. You look back over at him. “Your guitar. I always look forward to you playing it.”

His dark eyes trace your face, and you swear you catch the sight his cheeks turning pink, but maybe it’s just the fire.

“Oh,” he licks his lips nervously, letting out a dry chuckle. “I’m glad you like it.” He looks down. God why was he so nervous? Every time he played he always looked for you. He enjoyed it when you were there to listen to his music. But he never spoke to you, he was to scared to. Too shy.

Although you two didn’t talk much, he was fascinated by you. The way you held yourself, the way you could handle a gun better than any man he’s seen, or how you look good in whatever you wear or do, and how you hated dresses. Hell, even the way you walk or the way you laugh intrigued him.

Javier was harboring a crush for you, but he was too nervous to act upon it.

You glanced back over at him, watching as his eyes quickly darted away from you. A small smile grew on your lips, he was always like this. He seemed almost.. shy?

“Arthur told me you and him robbed a homestead today, how did it go?” You asked, wanting to keep up some form of conversation. His head perked up a bit, eyes coming back to meet yours as he sat up straighter, clearing his throat to speak.

"Uh, yeah, that was... something," he stammered, his usual confidence faltering. He could feel his heart racing, and he quickly looked back down at his guitar, strumming a few random chords to keep his hands busy.

“The whole house was ran by inbred’s.”

You raised an eyebrow, that was certainly something Arthur hadn’t told you. “Inbreds? No way, were they all like strange looking?”

He nodded, “they were certainly strange. Uh.. the way they spoke, wasn’t normal.” You watched as his hands nervously played with his guitar, playing a soft tune as he spoke.

“Damn, I wish I went along so I could see.” You sighed, pulling your gaze away from him to look up at the sky. It was late, and god were you tired. You brought your hand up to your lips to cover your yawn, a soft hum escaping you as you did.

Javier just watched, his face tinted pink as he watched the way your eyes squinted and your nose creased, the small sound comping from your throat as you yawned. It was cute. At least to him.

You looked over at him, wiping your eye a bit. “I’m going to get to bed. You really should too, it’s late.” You stand up, walking beside him, eyes staying on his. You carefully reached down, setting a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. “And there’s no need to be so nervous, I don’t bite.”

You giggled as his face noticeably flushed red as he looked away, nodding quickly. Your hand fell from his shoulder as you began to walk away. “Goodnight Javier.”

Javier sat there, Heart hammering in his chest from both embarrassment, and the way your hand felt resting upon his shoulder so carefully. “Goodnight..”

He took a deep breath as he turned to watch your form as you descended off into the direction of your tent, smile tugging at his lips

- - - - -

[6emo6zombie6]

RDR fem!relationship/sexual headcanons pt.2

Got some shower thoughts and had to write them down, this time for Charles, Javier, and Sadie. My last headcanons were received very well so I hope this one is as good! :)

Charles:

The sweetest and most gentle boyfriend ever. He’ll smile at you and blush whenever you walk into the room.

Enjoys taking you on long, calm horse rides. Usually, you end up cuddling on some beach or somewhere in a big field.

Loves when you play with his hair or swoop it over his shoulder so you can press kisses against his neck.

Always petting your head for some reason, whether you’re sitting in between his legs by the campfire or if you’re huddled in his cot together, he always seems to be petting your head.

Hand holding!!!!! This man will always hold your hand, he enjoys it especially if your hand is smaller than his (which, let’s be honest, it probably is).

Never stops smiling after you kiss him. It doesn’t matter if it’s a soft peck on his jaw or a long, passionate kiss, he just can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

~~~

Very slow and gentle, he doesn’t see why sex should be rushed.

He tries to hide it, but he’s actually super needy. He can’t help but get hard quickly, even if you’re just making out.

Super into sleepy sex. He loves seeing you sleepy and needy for him, completely under his mercy as he fucks you gently. He doesn’t mind in the slightest if you wake him up and ask him if he can help you out.

“You’re too horny to sleep? Aw, baby, let me take care of that for you.”

Not specifically into public stuff, but the two of you undoubtedly have fucked around in the woods a couple of times.

Always too shy to make any noise at first, but you’ll have him groaning and whining as soon as he warms up to you.

Obsessed with your thighs. He’ll fuck them or have his head between them if he can.

Ashamed to admit that he likes some light bondage every now and then.  

Sadie:

It initially took her a while to warm up to you, even If she fell in love from the first time she laid eyes on you.

Always laughing at your jokes, there isn’t a second that she thinks you’re unfunny or boring.

She loves that little sparkle in your eyes when she gives you a gift, so she’ll make sure to get you a shiny new ring or necklace every so often.

Always showing you off. She’ll make a smooth comment on how amazing you look every so often, causing all of the people at camp to look at you.

Always takes you along to bars, her arm either around your shoulders or your waist to make sure you don’t get hurt.

Offended by people who assume the two of you are just friends, you’re her girlfriend and everyone needs to know.

Definitely beats people up if they try to either flirt with or annoy you.

Loves it when you get clingy, she has all the attention in the world for you.

~~~

Not ashamed in the slightest to make out with you in public.

Hickeys and scratches are her other ways to show everyone whose girlfriend you are.

Always grabbing your boobs when nobody’s looking.

She’ll whisper dirty things into your ear while you’re doing your daily chores just to watch you get embarrassed.

Lets you ride her thigh whenever.

Does the knee thing, no doubt.

Very spontaneous when she wants sex, usually she’s pushing you into your tent with little to no words. You never have reason to complain though.

Not always rushed with sex, but she has her moments. Usually, she isn’t aware of how fast she’s going, just focused on making you cum.

 Javier:

Definitely the type of guy to kiss your hands.

Loves it when you wear his clothes, he’ll somehow always find a way to offer you his jacket.

Always calls you “Mi amor,” “Mi Corazón,” “Cariño,”… Etc.

Writes songs for you on his guitar.

Helps you practice playing guitar if he’s got time.

Loves sitting in between your thighs or laying his head between them.

Weirdly likes It when you touch his arms and trace his muscles.

Likes carrying you—it doesn’t matter what reason, and he’ll just make one up if there is none. He’ll carry you to your tent when you’re drunk or when you’re tired, if not, he’ll carry you to your horse like a princess.

Always worried if you’re too cold.

~~~

I’m telling you right now, this man for sure has an oral fixation. He’s always pushing his fingers into your mouth and making you suck them.

Blowjobs!! He’ll take them in any way, as long as his cock is in your mouth.

Enjoys pulling your hair.

Bends you over anything he can.

Absolutely goes wild when you sit on his lap and grind your hips against his bulge.

Always manhandling you while you’re making out.

Starts out slow and sensual during sex, then ends up getting rough and making you cum multiple times.

Prefers if you’re more bratty or confident during sex so he can try his best to bring you down.

Very vocal during sex, whether it is grunting and moaning or talking to you in Spanish.

[softrozene]

Short and Feisty Female S/O that Likes to Cuddle

Ladymogar asked: Aaaye I’m always so happy to see new writing blogs in fandoms I love ❤️ could I get hcs for Arthur, Charles, John, and/or Sean for having a smol s/o? Like short and fiesty but also into cuddly times? Thanks doll, I’ve really enjoyed your writing so far!

rdr2 masterlist

I adored this request and had to do all the characters suggested AND I added Javier because he is delicious. I would say the reader in this is under 5’5” (165.1 cm) as that is what is considered short where I am from but it’s different everywhere! Anyway, I’m glad you enjoy my writings, Hon!

I did go off this link when I think of the characters’ heights!

Originally published on March 31, 2020

Arthur, Charlies, Javier, John, Sean x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff

-

 Arthur Morgan-

Honestly, for him, I think he would be so fucking smitten with you

You would literally be everything he wanted in a partner

Small (or well smaller than what he would’ve imagined) but so much cuter and god the fire in you? To die for

He can 100% see himself risking it all for you and going to settle down to have a family with you- but that’s the future for him

The present with the gang around he would be hard to read

Or that’s how he likes to imagine himself

The second you stroll up to him and have to crane your neck to look up is the second his heart melts and that gentle giant comes out (maybe for a second but everyone in the gang definitely saw it)

Your feisty side originally made him assume that you weren’t the touchy-feely type

So when you first cuddled with him he was probably as stiff as a board and awkward but with you coaxing him into more cuddles which he always accepted he has realized how much he loves them

Poor boy is definitely touch-starved so he would never ever deny your cuddles no matter what time of day it is or who is present (Though he may get flustered)

It would become one of his favorite things to do with you

 Charles Smith-

Omg for Charles since he was a loner before the group and since the group has mostly taller people he would be astounded by your height at first

I feel like he would be on edge the whole time and make sure that he never ever harms you

That would probably be his number 1 fear in the relationship (Poor babe is scared he’ll crush you with his pinky or something)

It would take him a while to get used to being in a relationship with someone as small as you but thanks to your feisty side it makes him feel more comfortable eventually

It definitely eases him that you are not as fragile as you look (though let’s be honest he probably would adore how fragile you look since he would take on the protector role in the relationship)

He knows you are fully capable of protecting yourself though

This boy is touch-starved to but he has boundaries

He would set certain times or have cuddles only restricted to nights and away from prying eyes

He tries to compromise with you but really he believes that intimate moments should remain in private and once you do get to the cuddle session he will be absolute putty in your hands (Or you will be. It probably all depends on his mood)

 Javier Escuella-

This gorgeous man would never say anything about your attitude or height… in English of course

In Spanish, he’ll be teasing you relentlessly and you’ll be dying to find out what he’s saying

Your feisty attitude with this just makes him happy (and a tad impressed if you get mad enough to try and hit him)

No one else is allowed to comment about your height beside him- You both make sure of that

He would flirt with you constantly and without shame

And that’s how you would eventually get together

When he finds out you are a cuddler?

He’ll embrace and relish in it

He’s a romantic through and through so he won’t care where, when, and who is present he will always encourage and initiate the cuddles too

Though because he is a romance it could lead somewhere else and that’s when whoever present needs to speak up is

If you are outside the camp with him expect him to expect you to remain by his side or on his arm

He just likes the fact he can proudly show you off but if it ain’t your thing he won’t force it

Is absolute favorite time with you is when the two of you are cuddling, you in his lap, and he has the guitar on your lap strumming away as he sings softly into your ear

 John Marston-

He would be the one that wouldn’t care at first

It just doesn’t catch his attention and I feel like he would try to avoid you since your small stature and feisty nature reminds him of Abigail

Though once he does give in and you two become friends he’ll start to appreciate your stature and nature

He won’t comment on your height but he will purposely place things out of your reach to watch you struggle for it or so he could be “smooth” and help you (Yes imagine the cliché thing where the guy goes right behind the girl and they touch hands or something lmao- that would be John if he likes you)

Once he is confident that you aren’t like Abigail and you won’t get mad at him for teasing or initiating contact with you he’ll become more confident

I feel like he would be the first to try to cuddle and so when you let him he would just be awestruck

He doesn’t care too much about PDA around the gang but every once in a while he’ll pull you onto his lap and honestly if you let him or encourage him- he’ll probably marry you on the spot

John will appreciate you wanting to cuddle him but sometimes he’ll have his moods where he’ll need to be alone for a while

Don’t worry though because he will come back and feel bad for rejecting a cuddle and he’ll try to make it up to you

 Sean Macguire-

Would be the one to immediately say something about your height the first time you show up in the gang

He has no shame in teasing you, flirting with you, constantly picking on you

When he genuinely likes someone he’ll seem like a bit of a jerk but the cuteness of it is undeniable

Everyone in the gang will know why he acts like that and eventually you will too

However, because of your feisty nature, the beginning of the friendship and relationship would be both of your personalities clashing

He would 100% enjoy this though where you may get annoyed beyond relief

He is the one who would pick you up and carry you around camp to either piss you off or show off your smaller stature

1000000% Would be the one to use your head as an armrest and be all smug bout it

I think in general that Sean with a very short s/o would be a hilarious relationship

He could have his romantic moments but there will be absolutely no witnesses to show this

Unless he goes to Arthur, Hosea, or Dutch for help on how to charm you (That is the only time those three will have not lost faith in Sean’s romantic life)

As for cuddling, this boy lives for it

However, his hormones also live for it so the cute cuddles can and probably will turn into something else rather fast

Again he has no shame so he would try and cuddle (and do more tbh) with the gang present

[unmaskthewriter]

Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You {Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader}

Summary: Arthur realizes he’s in love with you.

A/N: As suggested/requested by @photo1030 . I apologize for the delay as I’m packing for travel and also I just got into Read Dead online for the first time all while completing RDR1 (first time) and RDR2 (second time). I know you suggested a different song/title but I couldn’t stop thinking about Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You by Frankie Valli. also did just watch Jersey Boys this weekend so that could be why. Anyways, despite it all, I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff as requested <3 except for Karen threatening to commit violence on Sean 👀

Word Count: 650+

It was nearly evening as Arthur returned from the bank robbery in Valentine. As the sun sank lower in the sky, it created a beautiful array of colors on the water. He approached the savings box behind Dutch’s tent, placing half his take into the box. Micah sat with Bill and Javier at a table, talking them into yet another round of Five Finger Fillet.

“You’ve taken nearly all my money!” Javier whined.

Mary Beth and Tilly were sitting in their tent, working on laundry and clothes that needed mending. Karen was sitting alongside Sean around the campfire, a bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Ah, c’mon lass, just one kiss!” Sean leaned closer to Karen, pointing to his cheek as she looked on, disinterested.

“Only thing you’ll be getting is this bottle over your head if you don’t quit your beggin.” Karen warned, taking a swig of the whiskey. Sean only laughed.

“Where would I be without ya, Miss Karen?” Sean questioned, to which she rolled her eyes.

“Dead, hopefully.” She mumbled, looking away from the Irishman.

“Oh, don’t play at that, lass. Ya know ya love me.” Sean teases the young woman.

Arthur ventured throughout camp in search of you. On a typical day, you were often around the campfire either listening to Javier’s music, or talking with the girls at their tent. He wandered out to the lake, leaning against a tree at the edge of the wood line. He lights himself a cigarette, taking a long drag as he watches on.

You were standing in the water, barefoot, with your pants rolled up to your knees. Jack sat nearby, making a necklace with small, coral flowers. Too focused on the line in the water to realize Arthur’s presence, Jack giggled as he looked at Arthur. The gunslinger only held a finger to his lips, smiling softly as the cigarette dangled there.

“I know I’m not quite the fisherman as I talked myself up to be. It’s okay, you can laugh.” You tease unknowingly. Arthur’s heart skipped at the sight, something he didn’t think possible. Prior to this evening, Arthur always believed he’d belong to Mary, even if she had moved on and married someone else her father approved more of.

Though now, seeing you there in the water while the setting sun reflected off of you and gave you this wonderful glow… all thoughts and dreams of Mary vanished in that very moment. All he could feel in this moment was a strange swelling of his heart when he looked at you. Now, Arthur never considered himself romantic but in this moment, doing something as simple as fishing and barely doing that gave him this light, fluttery feeling in his heart, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in quite some time. As you stepped out from the water, you turned to see Arthur standing there.

“Oh!” You held a hand over your chest, startled. You relax as you put the fishing rod away, “Didn’t see you there. How’ve you been?” You ask as Jack stands and gathers the flower necklace he had made.

“Good… was wondering what you were up to. See you’re teaching him all you know about fishing.” Arthur teases as he steps forward, putting the cigarette out beneath his boot. A blush creeps across your face as you look away, trying desperately to avoid his gaze.

“Don’t think I know too much on the matter, Mr. Morgan.” You admit shyly. Arthur’s lips part to speak, only to be interrupted by the child.

“Let’s go, I’m hungry!” He insists, now standing between the two of you, “Can you swing me?” He questioned excitedly. You look to Arthur who nods to you in return.

“Anything for you.” You ruffle the boy’s hair. Each taking hold of the child’s small hands, you and Arthur swing Jack gently between the both of you as you return to camp, like one happy family.

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Can we get being married to Javier headcanons?? Pls and thank you 🙏

Married To Javier Escuella HC

I see Javier hc and go feral

Warnings: None

He was made for married life

The night of your marriage, he carried you into your home bridal style and kicked open the front door with you in his arms

Said he thought it was super romantic

Probably practiced it a few times before the big day

Wedding cake was tres leches don't argue

He adjusts to domestic life nicely, finally getting a break from all the hardships of life and gets to live out his days with his wonderful spouse by his side

He does a lot of the cooking. Makes you breakfast in bed when he's able to

But he always makes sure you have your coffee

His ring finger is never seeing a break. He will NEVER take that ring off

ALWAYS finds a way to mention you in a conversation with ANYONE

If anyone tries to flirt with him, he just shoves his ring in their face

"ESTOY CASADO"

Honeymoon phases never ends

He is just so head over heels in love. He will continuously do romantic shit throughout y'all's marriage: serenading you, trailing rose petals from the front door toward the bedroom, candlelit baths together, having fully cooked meals ready for you by the time you get home

Indoctrinates you into his self-care routine if you don't already have one

Would do one of those Chicano glamour-shot 2000's couples photoshoots with you (PLEASE TELL ME Y'ALL KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT)

Omg I can just imagine y'all living your days out on some terrenos in Mexico with your own ranch and cute little animals. Your wedding gift to yourselves

If you don't already know Spanish he'd teach you some key phrases and words to help you out

Also thinks its very intimate to be teaching someone his language and helps him feel more connected to them

[2demondogs]

Am I Bad? | Javier/Arthur

Tags: minor injuries, drunken camp shenanigans, Javier has anger issues and Arthur is drunk as FUCK. believe it or not this is all fluff Word Count: 4.4k A/N: I don't speak Spanish so I Googled shit. Let me know if it's contextually wrong. Or just plain wrong...

Boredom has become a luxury. Arthur is glad that — too sore and tired to ride any further, too far from civilization to do much of anything meaningful — they have found themselves at a loss for busywork.

It is a heaven of its own after working his body into unraveling at the seams, it feels, for weeks on end.

Javier had taken the job of setting up camp, delivered well on his promise to make it quick. A single tent lay before the firepit he'd slapped together, piled with timber Arthur fetched meanwhile. They agreed some evenings ago, shitfaced and brazen, that one tent was more economical for many reasons, a few of which spurred Javier's hand on his thigh. Sober, neither have been ballsy enough to discuss it again.

Well, Arthur hasn't got the balls for it.

By the time noon has nestled into the clouds, he's brushed most of the grass and dirt from their New Hanover trail off of his horse. A sweet girl, who reminds him more of a cat than a horse the way she clings to him and eyes Boaz with distrust. A girl that he hasn't yet named since borrowing; certainly, she'll be lured away by another man, in the way karma reclaims all stolen goods, which renders it borrowing.

Naming her is one task he must — he is too soft to say he merely should — do, but neglecting things is a different experience when he isn't in danger of popping any of Dutch's blood vessels.

Javier is circling the firepit when he turns and stretches, lumbering over on sore legs. Watching him plunk his boney ass onto the dirt beside it, Arthur snickers at him hiking his pant legs up at the knees, the way a woman hikes her skirt when she sits.

He doesn't tease him for it anymore. The first and last time, he got asked, in the middle of camp: why, cariño, want me to be your woman? If he really meant the bite that laid behind his words or if it was a cover-up, one for whatever odd flower was growing in the dirt of their friendship — he really doesn't know.

Unable to help himself, he snickers.

"Watch yourself," Javier warns, appraising it as Arthur seats himself without grace. He scoffs. "At least I don't sit down like a withered old man."

The words are light. They've lost some of their usual rasp, as if he is speaking from a different part of his throat where the skin is not so scarred. Arthur likes this tone, has noticed him using it more often when they're alone.

Nevermind that it is the same way he speaks to Boaz, Dutch, and the occassional stray dog in town. Saved for God, wife, and animal companion, like a good man's softness should be.

The thought makes him bite down a laugh, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Afternoon comes sooner than Arthur would like.

The shit has been shot sufficiently, he supposes, if Javier's eyes unfocusing and his broken humming are anything to go by. Another effect of his scarred throat, he doesn't often hum a true hum: dah-dah, duhn, dah-dah-dah, the general beats of a song only he knows, mumbled low and quiet.

Maybe in another life, Javier is a musician. They'd both be artists, then. By chance, Arthur could do the artwork for his record slips, if the lack of guns made more time for pencils to fit in his hand.

Now there's a funny thought. Him, an artist, full-time. All professional-like. There he goes, making shit up.

In the pleasant pseudo-silence, Arthur pulls his pocket knife out to pick the grime from beneath his nails. Swiping the tip of the shortest blade beneath the discolored white of his nail, wiping the dirt off with two fingers, and then repeating. It is so second-nature, he hardly pays mind to whether they are cleaned or not and must do another pass to get them presentable.

He may or may not be wondering, as anyone would, what kind of songs Javier would do.

His fingernails need trimmed, anyways. Everything about Javier looks so purposeful, Arthur is too ashamed to chew his nails in front of him.

The man's nails bend and break, too, sure they do. First, though, they are straight-clipped; he has never felt the teeth-roughened edges of a nail-biter's hands scratching over his skin. In the company of Arthur, he only appears to chew on the hardened ridges of skin around the nailbeds.

Somehow, if his actions chafe with the pristineness Arthur sees in him, the rough things Javier does simply become pristine, too. At least as far as his body extends, the skin-deep qualities like voice and hair and cleanliness and godliness — except, of course, Javier could never fit so nicely in one little box, wiry but wily.

Arthur knows he is just making shit up once more. He hardly understands it himself, at this point, finds it difficult to admit that even when he doesn't respect what Javier does, he still— well, he supposes, likes the man. Digging himself into a tunnel system of respect, admiration, and morality is much easier than taking a crack at digging straight down into affection.

He scrapes wrong against the underneath of his nail and cringes, bringing himself from his head and into the present once more. Javier is singing softly, drumming on his thighs and watching Arthur, who had zoned out thoroughly. He glances at Javier, runs away from his eyes as quick as he ran to them.

They're too kind.

Javier stops singing. It was more of a babble, anyways, slurred and words half-skipped over. "I miss my guitar," he says, nearing solemnity. "No music out here."

Arthur raises his brows. "I got hands and feet, don't I?" He says, offers a small grin. "Just sing somethin' I know."

He chuckles, eyes unmoving as he thinks, like he'll hear music if he looks long enough at Arthur's tired old face. Sometimes, he wishes Javier would just shoot him in the head instead of staring at his damn forehead wrinkles like this.

It isn't as easy as a sing-a-long usually is.

Javier is mostly familiar with Uncle's instructions for playing various English songs: it's like this, then some godawful him-hawing that is somehow turned into notes, then it sound' happier than that, Javier, c'mon'ow. The rest of his catalogue is Spanish.

"If you listen close, I could teach you Corrido de Joaquín Murrieta," he says, and Arthur must look lost. Javier rubs his mouth, studying him. He speaks slower now, gesturing with his hand as if to lay out the letters: "Maybe La Llorona would be better. It's just a few lines."

He nods, but he can feel his eyes widen. "Sure thing. I can try."

"La Llorona," Javier repeats. It is slow, and his voice is absent of the teasing he'd surely turn on anyone else.

"La," — twisting the switchblade in his fingers in thought — "Um, juh—"

"What?" Javier cuts him off, and the taunting tone is risen. "Where did you get a juh from, vaquero?"

Arthur's face grows hot. They decide to leave the Spanish lessons for another day; he feels a little disappointed.

He likes hearing him sing in his mother tongue.

The songs of his own childhood were embedded in him later into it: bleary memories of Hosea, hair still blond and drunk as a fish, drumming to the beat on Dutch's back to irritate him as they all sang through prison song after prison song. It was most of what his father taught him, he had said once, because he spent all but three months of Hosea's youth in jail. The rest of them, Hosea learned firsthand.

By some stroke of luck, Javier knows one.

Well, the sheriff told his deputy; won't you go out and bring me Lazarus? A call to and back. Javier looks far happier than he should for such a song, stomping in time with Arthur.

Well, the sheriff tol—

"Shit!"

Blood drips from the juncture between his thumb and pointer finger, and Arthur tosses his pocket knife into the dirt as if it has teeth. Judging by the modest sized hole in his hand's webbing, it may as well.

"The Hell did you—? Dios, be more fuckin' careful," Javier hisses, raising to come to his side.

An odd type of pain blossoms from the puncture, and he cringes as he moves his thumb to allow Javier a decent look at it.

"I weren't payin' attention, blade was still out," Arthur explains. He peers at it, then shakes his head and turns away with a sneer. "There's a damn hole in me and it ain't hardly bleedin'. That ain't right."

Javier begins to say something, and then shuts his mouth around the first syllable. His fingers are careful where they splay Arthur's fingers open, touch the back of his hand. In another situation, it might even feel nice to have his skin stroked this way.

"I'll admit, it's... weird to look at."

The pad of a finger nears the opening and Arthur grimaces, partly from irritation and partly from an intrusive vision of Javier poking his finger right into the wound. It lights his nerves up, as if his body is as disgruntled by the thought as his brain is.

Oh, Jesus, that's a bad feeling.

"Why's it dark in there? Looks empty," he continues, and Javier laughs easily. "Where's the— I dunno, the muscles and shit?"

Javier retracts his touch, pats him on the head. "Shut up, chiquillo. I'll wrap it for you."

"That better not mean stupid," he gripes.

He huffs a laugh. "Nothing about your intelligence," he reassures. "Means you are a big baby." Arthur scoffs; still, he won't look at his hand. Javier approaches a snorting Boaz to rifle through his saddlebag, takes out a rag and tears a strip off. "I think it has a better ring to it."

On the larger portion of cloth, he tips water from the flask laying beside their tent. Javier works quick, but light; his hand is wrapped around the palm to let him flex it without opening the wound up for dirt and infection. It is a hard area to protect, they agree, but Arthur will survive.

He really doesn't know why it bothers him so much. His stomach ain't weak, not after the gore he's seen and caused — why's a tiny hole in his hand so freaky?

Javier settles by his side, after, and smooths a hand down the patch of forearm his rolled up sleeves exposes. It takes some of his mind off the dilemma of just what is inside his body, rubbing up on all of his bones — a horrible train of thought — to have his rough palm stroking his arm so tenderly.

"I can sing to you, instead," he offers, face relaxed again.

"I ain't on my deathbed," Arthur says.

The warmth in his face must speak for itself. Javier sings for a while, until his throat sparks up phantom pains.

It isn't the first time anyone has seen Strauss and Hosea dancing, but the pair bring Arthur to tears each time, tears of amusement. The alcohol in his system doesn't hurt, though a large dinner is absorbing his first beer, and fast.

They'd hit a gold mine — so to speak, if only — on the way home, a massive buck that Arthur's big girl could barely handle after a nasty field dressing. With its size and the money a best-cut hide could fetch, not to mention the antlers, it was worth the strain on his horse to bring it back home to Pearson and Hosea for skinning. Arthur made sure to find her a sugar cube for her hard work.

It happened to be found in Kieran's tent, but he will be too hungover in the morning to notice and Arthur, too hungover to remember his theft.

Their return didn't come without an nth retelling of Arthur's grand fish haul of yore, as Hosea called it, which made his face burn in something like shame, as it always does. Especially for Javier to hear it after teasing over his fishing skills so often; he had turned and asked if he still pays for his better catches at the market, considering...

Nor did the haul come without a party. None of the gang had seen so much meat in close to a year, let alone been able to eat any of it. Pearson said it ought to have weighed a hundred and ten pounds or more.

Javier clapped Arthur on his sore back with a toothy grin. We did good, and yes, they had, as far as Arthur was concerned. He shouldn't need to go hunting for a month.

Hallelujah.

And now Strauss is twirling Hosea around their campfire, struggling to reach over the taller man's head; Javier mindlessly strums new chords to an old song that Strauss half-remembered from Austria and taught the lot of them years ago, some leigst mir am Herzen, leigst mir im Sinn; Dutch is running his mouth to an unenthused Lenny, who seems to be trying in earnest to mumble the German words that Uncle is singing with his chest.

Arthur and Mary-Beth are vaguely following the other dancing couple, the woman quick to dodge his two boot-clad left feet to save her bare toes from crunching. What a sight those old coots make, stumbling around in a shoddy ländler and hollering every time Hosea is held like a lady would be.

A wasted Sean trades into Mary-Beth's spot followed by a shriek of laughter from the fire, and the lady joins Karen instead. Arthur is just tipsy enough to allow it.

Sean's skinny hand is clammy and dwarfed in his injured one, and both join in vaguely singing so, so, wie ich dich liebe! He can tell the Irishman is sloshed, not only by his breath and how often he accidentay kicks Arthur in the ankles, but because of how he presents his freckled cheek and batters his lashes at the end of the verse.

"You's the ugliest girl at the hoedown," Arthur grins, and can't name each man that finds the whole thing hilarious. He can name each one who finds him kissing his scruffy cheek funny, when Sean rolls his eyes and taps it: all of them laugh, a ruckus loud enough that they will be lucky to not have been ambushed by morning.

The joy hurts his face, though maybe the smile is more of a grimace after having his arms around the redhead, sniffing on that constant hay and liquor smell he carries.

He forgets it by trading for Karen's hand. She is much prettier; he gives her a kiss, too. She makes conversation on what happened to his hand, and offers a playful tut about his carelessness.

When, at last, the song changes twice over, he drops his ass to sit on a log beside a tuckering out Hosea. Rubbing the slight sheen of summer heat off of his face and accepting a beer from the old man, he swipes his gaze around the fire only to notice Javier is glaring daggers at him, fingers picking hard at the strings.

He raises his brows in a silent who, me? Dark eyes return to the neck of the acoustic, and he flubs a note as he begins the next song.

The look throws Arthur off, but he watches Javier playing, anyways. It's no safe bet: his heartrate drums a little faster whenever the man's eyes move from the frets or the body, anticipating a call-out and a what're you starin' at, queer? to save face.

Javier isn't hard to read nor please, as so many of the gang claim. If a man learns how to see his aggression and how to shut his trap appropriately, Javier tends to like him. He's knocking on the guitar body, now, introducing some percussion to the song between quick plucks of the strings.

It must be why the two of them have always gotten along so well. Hosea once told him his habit of wanting to placate others to an abnormal degree was because he was beat as a kid, but he was fifteen and...

He focuses his vision, blinks as it comes into relative sharpness again. "Hey, Hosea?"

Next to him, Hosea turns from speaking lowly to Dutch, who is crouching beside him with a cigar on his lip. He leans over to look at Arthur, too, as if he asked for both of them.

"Yes, son?"

"You remember when," — furrowing his brows, finding such a long sentence hard to string together as the last of his third beer settles into his bones — "I's a kid and you, uh... said I'm a people pleaser all 'cuz my daddy beat me?"

His brows shoot up. "Jesus," he whispers, mouth spreading in a smile that's all nerves and surprise before returning to its usual firm line. "I do. Why?"

"I want'a say 'm sorry for— uh, sayin' your daddy woulda beat you, too," Arthur apologizes, as sincerely as he can. Both of his fathers blanche. "Y'know, if he weren't locked up, he woulda..." He twirls his hand as if to demonstrate a longer explanation laying in the air before them, then scratches the back of his neck with it. "Sorry I said that t'ya. Them years ago."

Dutch grabs Hosea's arm as if to steady himself, mouth split in an amused grin. The blond sucks his lips in, and nods.

"Why, that had't've been a whole score ago," Hosea says. "Don' worry, son."

"I dunno," he says. "'S only time you ever slapped me."

Hosea's ears turn red, and he pats Arthur's bicep affectionately. "Well, I wasn't tryna be another type like your father."

"You's always like my real dad. Sorta."

He pauses, mouth opening and then closing as if he isn't sure how to respond to that drunken confession.

Dutch has sunk to his knees on the grass beside the log, leans over with an elbow on Hosea's thigh. "Say, son," he begins, tossing a thumb to Javier and speaking low. "Why don't you go back to gawkin' at your man in silence?"

It's his turn to blush. "I weren't... the fuck'chu mean," — raising his voice to match Dutch's strained tenor, cracking the words in half to piss him off — "My man, you sack of—?"

"Well," Hosea interjects, then, straightening his pants legs at the knees. He raises with a click of his joints. "Sounds like time for me to get outta here."

Hours pass, maybe two. Arthur's pissed twice counting this toilet run, downed two more beers, threw back two shots of something strong-tasting, and danced twice more. He is coming to like the number two.

Whoever gave Uncle a harmonica, however, Arthur does not like.

Sure, the man has clearly played one before, but every wandering cowboy has handled a harmonica. Someone must be able to make it sound better than this, so shrieking it's driven Arthur doubly as far away as he'd normally go to take a leak. The man who wrote this song, the one that the few remaining around the fire begin to stomp and clap to — Arthur's hand throbs, fingers fumbling at his fly — the feller who wrote my girl, my girl, in the pounds, in the pounds, so on and so forth... he must be rolling in his grave.

Javier could make the shrill cry of the harmonica sound good, he thinks idly. Teetering on wasted, fishing himself from his drawers in the darkness outside of camp's edge, he notices that the guitar stopped.

What kind of music would he play, if he were a musician? 

It's a lovely thought, now. Arthur is warm with alcohol and loose enough at the shoulders to entertain the fancy without self-flagellating. He'll have to chew on what Dutch teased him for when he's sober, if he remembers it at all, but for now he thinks of Javier as his man and feels a smile gnawing at him.

Does he want him like that?

Arthur isn't sure, but he thinks it is one of those rare scenarios where neutrality speaks more volumes than both disgust and adoration. A man who was merely lonely, in the sexual sense, wouldn't be so fond of another feller's voice, or the way he struts with his gun belt clanking and yelling out how big and bad he thinks he is, or—

"There you are, Arthur."

Javier's voice makes him jump, hands flinching. How does this guy always find him?

"Just about zipped my damn pecker off," he hisses, turning over his shoulder to glare at him.

Well, he hopes it's a glare. He has a hard time expressing the right things when he's shitfaced.

And Javier is getting close, placing a hand on the back of his neck and stroking the sweat-soaked skin there, clipped nails scratching the shortest hairs at his nape. He swallows a groan.

"Enjoying the party?" He asks, as if Arthur ain't pissing right there and as if he isn't tenderly caressing him all the while.

He shakes himself, stuffs his dick back in his pants and does them up. "I'm enjoyin' the drinks," he says. "Missin' the music."

Javier chuckles. He turns Arthur easily, slots his body to his with his arms around his waist; Arthur smells vodka on his breath, remembers him taking shots alongside the handful of them who had before the bottle ran out.

That's probably why I'm hammered.

"What'chu up to, mister?" He asks lightly. Javier's face, already unclear in the night, has turned to his chest. If Arthur isn't entirely lost, he thinks the man's stomach contracts short and quick where it presses to his own. "Javier. Are you sniffin' me?"

Alright, so he's hammered, too.

He leans back. The whites of his eyes near glow, the collar of his white shirt as stark; his dark hair fades into the background, but his dark eyes don't.

They're hot. At least, their fixation makes Arthur's face feel hotter, and he doesn't care if anyone sees them embracing like this.

"You smell good, vaquero," he says simply. He runs a hand up his right side, over the underside of the arm to splay it outwards before he wraps his fingers around those of his uninjured hand in an awkward, but tight hold. "I wanna dance with you. You didn't let me, earlier."

"Never asked, did you?" Arthur asks, confused.

"No. You had that Irish hog on your hip."

He balks. "For a minute, maybe." Despite himself, he puts his arm around Javier's shoulders, big enough to encircle them. "Is that why you kept lookin' at me like I called your momma a tart?"

Javier blinks, as if he is scanning his memory for what the word means. Then, he frowns. "Sean's an asshole," he repeats, and the softer syllables slur together. "He said my dick's small."

Where a sobered Arthur would laugh at the childish hint of hurt in his voice, he merely raises his brows.

"Were he lookin' at it?" He asks, unsure where the twinge of— whatever emotion that's chafing on him comes from.

Jealousy? Something like anger?

The cackle from the other man tells him the question came out wrong. "Aye, you know how to comfort a man, vaquero," he teases, and Arthur realizes where his words went wrong.

"I didn't mean it like that," he says, and then pauses. "Not that, uh, your prick's small." Javier goes quiet, lets him flounder with a smile pulling at his lips. "I mean, it's... it's real..." — flushing, wanting to stop talking immediately, but knowing Javier will press him until he finishes his sentence — "Nice. I just didn't mean to say it, at first."

"Oh, it's only nice?" Javier rubs a hand at the small of Arthur's back, where sweat pools beneath his button-down. "I'd figure—"

"I don't wanna know what you figure," he sputters, trying to save his own dignity. "God, c'mon, didn't you wanna dance?" Arthur squeezes his hand. "Let's dance, vacay-row."

Javier snorts. "If you stop butchering my language, we'll dance all night."

"How'd you say it, then?" Arthur asks, brows knitting in genuine dismay.

Inhibitions so forgotten, he feels wholeheartedly a need to impress Javier, as if a redneck speaking Spanish with a thick accent but moderate fluency would be able to. He ought to just shut his gob after one or two beers, seal right over it with tape maybe; Arthur never seems to think of that option until he's already knee-deep in an avoidable, embarrassing situation.

To his surprise, Javier replies gently: "Vaquero."

He tries his best, with his eyes peering into his soul like this. "Va... Va-kee-row."

"Close," Javier says. He glances around, then leans up and presses his lips to the lobe of Arthur's ear. His breath reeks of vodka, and he wanders how many shots he took to lose his apprehension about camp. Normally, he wouldn't spare Arthur a handshake two miles from this place. "Vaquero."

He swallows, throat clicking. "Vaquero."

A kiss is tucked behind the corner of his jaw. "There you go," he says. "Beun chico."

"Is that an insult?" Arthur asks, but lets himself relax anyways. "Sounds like what you said yesterday.

"Sí. It is a different insult, though."

He sighs. Javier grins, wide, looks so handsome. The urge to kiss him is difficult to resist. They haven't moved at all, a realization met in tandem.

Javier moves easier than he does, already poor at these close-quarters dances and stomach flipped by how his partner is much nearer than he needs to be. It does not sync to the music from camp, whatever that might be; his ears are ringing a little, Javier's nose pressed firmly into his neck and his breath steady and slow at it. Sleep might have taken him, if he weren't moving his feet alongside Arthur's, and he wanders if he's smelling him again. He can't smell like much besides perspiration and whatever men usually stink of when they've been rotting out in the woods.

His gentleness is nice.

If Arthur shuts his mind off, he only knows of Javier's heat against him and their legs stumbling together and how his fingers clumsily work over his hand and wrist until they finally lace with his. If he comes back into his mind to tune out the sounds of camp— he can focus on the bugs and birds chirping in the evening outside, a hot summer wind rustling the leaves, the sound of their clothes rustling together. Their palms are growing clammy where they meet.

It's nice, until Javier yanks himself away. If he were a dog, his ears would be pricked; instead, he snaps his face back toward camp. He storms off with a seething: "Some rat is playing my fucking guitar."

[saintbarou]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝚬, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝚬

tags: fluff // established relationship // drinking // reader is drunk // fem reader // reader is mexican // jealousy mentioned // 1.5k (lit one word away from 1.6k lmfao) // very self indulgent // set at the party after jack's return in chapter 4

synopsis: you are javier's, javier is yours. entirely.

Javier has kept his eye on you since the party had begun even as he strummed his guitar and sang his songs. You were with the other ladies - sitting at the feet of Mary Beth and Tilly as Karen sat next you all laughs and badly sung lyrics from her drinking. Her arm was around you, tugging you closer to her as she pressed the booze bottle to your lips. The rim is stained with the berry of her lipstick and Javier watches with avid fascination at how it’s gotten on your lips too. Even from this distance it’s clear to him that you are more than tipsy - your shoulders that are usually so tense around others are down and relaxed. You sway in your seat to your own tune now that Javier has let the likes of Uncle take over with his banjo and it makes him smile at how endearing you are when you are lost in your own world.

He hears his name called and it’s John. smiling and looking over Jack - fatherhood is beginning to suit his long time friend he thinks. Javier goes to him, lets him rope him into a conversation he truly isn’t really listening into. It drags on and when Javier turns to look back at where you were sitting only to find you gone, only Karen looking forlorn with a drink in her hand. 

“You looking for her?” John asks, voice colored with amusement at his friend’s wandering eyes. It makes Javier stand a little taller, back straighter with red ears from being caught. When he goes to deny it, John only laughs - voice cracking under the weight of his humor.

“It’s alright, I know m’ only boring ya. Go get em tiger.” John grins as he ushers Jack back to Abigail who was waiting by the door of the manor. Javier laughs too and finds the humor at which his friend was laughing at and does as he said. He stalks carefully through the camp letting his eyes search for the details he has come to memorize entirely and completely. The shine of your hair in the light, or the unusual sharpness of your canines in your smile.

Javier has made it just past Pearson’s wagon when he hears the soft bell-like chime of your giggle and he goes a little further past it when he sees you drunk on your feet. His lips quirk when he sees that you still sway but it fades quickly when he sees who you are with. Arthur is speaking to you, and holding you up by a hand on your bicep. You giggle again and Javier is not blind to the soft smile that graces Arthur’s face as he looks down at you. You and the gunslinger have always been close - the two of you have enough similarities that make conversations easy when they tend to be harder for the both of you. There’s a bitterness to his face that he isn’t fond of at how clearly it shows as he begins to make his way to where you both stand.

Arthur’s ears pick up the jingle of his spurs and turns in his direction - Javier watches how he turns to tell you of his arrival and neither are expecting the quickness of which you turn in his direction. It’s like Javier had to only blink and you are looking at him with the sweetest gaze he’s ever seen. You smile - still dopey from the drink that you are undoubtedly feeling running through you but it’s still bright as the morning star. It’s enough to make him forgo his bitterness, his fist loosening as he continues his way to you - the gentle noise of his guitar against his gait as he finally reaches you.

“Javi,” you sigh like it’s the only word that means anything to you and you come to rest your hand on his forearm. You press your head to his shoulder, letting your eyes flutter shut as you hum and nuzzle against his gray suit jacket. You are murmuring jumbled sentences of English and Spanish, he can catch a few stray strands of all sorts of pet names - they all make him laugh to himself. His ears flush red again at how Arthur’s amused huff breaks Javier out of the spell you put him in, enough to make him look at Arthur whose amusement cannot be more clearly painted on his face.

“She was looking for you - wouldn’t stop talking about how she missed you.” The older man laughs, going to turn on his heel to head back to the fire with the others.

“Is that so?’ Javier says back, eyes unbearably soft as he gazes down at where you rest your giggling head. 

“I’m afraid so, have fun love birds!” Arthur leaves with that last call and finally Javier has what he has been looking for all night.

To be alone with you.

“I really missed you.” You mumble, voice soft with affection, pulsing through each world. Javier chuckles, so very tickled pink and amused by your puppy-like love you have for him. He takes you gently in his arms and begins to walk you to the wagon that acts as your tent to set you down on your side of the back of the wagon. You can’t sit up - or rather you don’t want you so he settles next to you, letting his guitar lean against the wheel of the wagon to turn to face you more properly. You look up at him with a flushed face and a lovesick twinkle in your eyes that makes him smile broadly.

“Did you, now? I was right there with you.” A tease wrapped in a question that makes you whine as you hide your face in his shoulder. Javier can’t help but love on you, bringing a hand to the top of your head to stroke at your hair. You whine, almost petulantly but lean into his touch.

“No - I miss you when it’s like this. Just us,” you raise your head to look up at him and you flutter your blinks to try and focus. “It’s nice when there’s others around but you’re mine. All mine, you know?”

Javier feels as if his throat is dry and splintered like glass - he can’t speak with how hot his face feels at your admission. The dark brown of his irises are lost on watching your stained lips form the words and they ring in his ears. The drunk is burning through you like a wildfire if you can say those things so freely; you lack your usual timidness, meeting his gaze head on with a tenderness Javier isn’t quite sure what he has done to earn.

He does, ducks his head in an uncharacteristically timid nod at your confession as a shy smile blooms across his face.

“You make me crazy, you know that?” You let out a confused sound, even tilt your head to the side like a puppy. Javier chuckles, bring down his hand at your head to cup at your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin where your cheek meets your eye.

“You make me crazy. Saw you with Karen like this and I wanted to take you away then n’ there.” You hum, nuzzling your cheek into the warmth of his hand and peer up at him with glimmering eyes.

“How come?” 

Javier sighs, deeply and so very in love.

“Just don’t like the idea of anyone else seeing you like this. So sweet and pretty. I’m yours and you are mine.” You sigh almost dreamily at his words and lean into him - bringing the crown of your head to press against this chest.

Right where his heart beats profoundly, for you and for you alone.

“M’ yours? Only yours?” His lips go to press a kiss on your hair and he hums in confirmation. It’s almost enviable how even that small sound is as pretty as his singing.

“Mine. All mine, para siempre.”

You have raised your head so you can look up at him from where you rest against his chest and smile so very sweetly it’s enough to make him blush. It’s nothing compared to the smile you had around the fire nor the one you wore with Arthur - this one was as bright and warm and life sustaining as the sun itself. Javier gazed down at you with so much wonder, he thinks this must be it, his purpose on the earth is to keep making you smile like that just for him. You rise, just a bit to press a kiss to his soft jawline, humming at the contrast of your soft lips to his freshly shaven stubble and indulge in pressing another.

“Sleep with me tonight, stay with me a little longer before you go back to them.” You ask, pleading with your voice as soft as the affections you press to his skin. Javier hums, dark eyes twinkling in the light of the small lantern you have just outside your wagon. His hand takes your chin, tilting you up to pepper your face in his own kisses - ones that make you giggle softly as the whiskers of his mustache tickle your face.

He’s only teasing you - murmuring sly little “Should I? Should I stay?” in between each kiss as you giggle and whisper soft pleas that still have the weight of liquor painting them. Javier knows he will stay the night with you, there cramped on your bedroll in the back of your little wagon; just as he does every night.

[cherriiiepiee]

javier escuella hcs! ^-^

just some silly (some modern) hcs. sfw!/fluff!!! // sry i havent been posting!! :c

javier loves loves sweet things, every time you see him, he’s munching on a chocolate bar and he loves red velvet

if javier had kids with you he would NOT throw any baby stuff away even if they were like 30 he would still have their toys from when they were like.. 5 😭

INLOVE with tattoos that’s it

javier steals cheap cologne idc what anyone says JAVIER SMELLS GOOD 🙄🙄

chews on pencils if you asked him for a pencil you will feel all the teeth marks on it 😭😭 (you would probably see the eraser bit on……..)

idk why but I feel like he would love skateboarding but he sucks ass 😞

has thick ass blankets you’ll never be cold again

LOVES when u brush his hair in the morning

he cuddles his pillow

he’s awkward when he’s complimenting you 😭😭 even when you guys r dating he has build up the courage to say you look nice today

[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