#dutch x male reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

allzelemonz · 7 months

Text

Street Urchin: Dutch Van der Linde X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 1, Age Play Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘son’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Age play, role play, begging, slight pain/rough handling, anal fingering, anal sex, prostate massage, biting, neck kissing, dirty talk, teasing Summary: Dutch suggested you pretend to be one of those young street boys while in Saint Denis so he can teach you a lesson.

Dutch had asked about it before. He likes his partners younger than him and he thought it could be fun if you acted younger than you are. Well aware that you’re not some sniveling brat of a teenage boy, he seems all too happy that you’re acting like one. His fist is curled into your shirt, a size too big to really sell it. His idea. The bit of dirt on your face was also his idea, making you look like a street urchin in the slum alleyway of Saint Denis. And, of course also his idea, is his pocket watch in your hand. With Dutch glaring down at you with those menacing eyes and stern face, you actually begin to feel like some kid that got caught picking a man’s pocket.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, boy?” Dutch says with a venom you haven’t ever heard directed at you.

The nerves come easy, hardly acting. “I-I wasn’t doing-”

“Stealing.” Dutch chides, his voice mocking. “And doing quite a poor job of it too.”

Your breath hitches when you try to speak this time. Dutch wrestles the watch from your hand, shoving it back into his pocket. His fist tugs you closer only to press you hard back into the wall as he steps closer. In normal circumstances, you’d be hard from his rough handling by now, but those eyes make you shiver instead.

“You need to be taught a lesson, don’t you, son?”

You shake your head lightly. “I ain’t gonna do it again, mister. Honest!”

That brings a smirk to Dutch’s face and you can’t tell if it’s because you threw on a little voice for him or if it’s the situation itself. His free hand winds into your hair and tugs at it to make you look up at him, your knees buckling slightly from the hold and allowing Dutch to fully tower over you.

“You ain’t gonna learn a damn thing if you got no one to teach ya, son.”

It’s a fluid motion, one that makes you gasp before you groan when you hit the wall. Your chest hurts, flush against the bricks as air struggles to reach your lungs again. Dutch shoves your head forward and your cheek digs against the harsh texture. His other hand is already at your pants, tugging them down.

“Ya ain’t gonna hurt me, are ya, mister?” You ask, keeping that voice in case Dutch likes it.

You can feel his breath on your neck, his voice that low rumble it usually is when you do something to please him. “Oh, I ain’t gonna hurt ya, son. Just pay attention, you may learn somethin’ useful.”

“S-Sure, mister.”

He takes that in stride, letting your pants drop to your ankles and pressing himself flush against your. You can feel his familiar hardness digging into your ass as his hand kneads the other cheek. When he gives a small slap to it, you whimper and it makes him chuckle.

“You done this before, son?”

“N-No, sir.”

His hand rubs gently at what you assume is reddening skin. “Good.”

There’s a wet sound, then Dutch’s finger at your hole. He circles the rim, letting the spit wetten it and you can’t resist the urge to push back. The hand in your hair tugs and his arm stiffens to hold you still. You take the hint, only arching your back in an attempt to get more. He does push inside, very slowly, like anyone would with a virgin. He’s careful, circling and crooking with slow movement. His second finger stretches you when he presses it along the first and this time he lets himself go for that nice spot, hitting it only lightly.

Putting yourself in the mind of your young self, thinking of the first time that little spot was found, you try to remember how you reacted and give it to Dutch.

“Like that, son?” He whispers, his lip grazing your ear. “You can do that to yourself too, next time you’re alone and thinking of a strong man fucking a runt like you.”

You gasp when he digs in, his fingers hitting relentlessly against it for a moment before he lets you breathe. He returns to idle movements, a third finger opening you up too. Your head is clouded by the sudden rush, you hardly register the motions as he lines himself up. Your senses only return when he begins to press inside and the hand in your hair drops to cover your mouth.

“That’s it.” Dutch whispers, slowly guiding your hips with his free hand. “See, even dirty little brats can be good boys.” He grunts, thrusting in the last inch and forcing you flat against the wall again. “Ya just needed a firm hand, didn’t ya, kid?”

His hand leaves your mouth in favor of your other hip and you let your forehead rest against the cold bricks. “Yes, sir.”

Dutch pulls back, his hands holding you in place against the wall and giving you no chance of bracing yourself. His hips snap forward and you hold in the noises that threaten to spill, your eyes very keenly aware of the light population on the street a few yards away. He wastes no time, quickly picking a punishing pace that makes you screw your eyes shut and your legs widen unconsciously.

“Yer takin’ me well, kid.” Dutch mutters by your ear. “I ain’t your first am I? You fool around with your little friends like this or is it another man that has you so well trained?”

You gasp when he bites at your neck. “M-Mister, please-”

“Articulate, boy.” Dutch chides between nips. “Ain’t gettin’ nowhere in life unless you let a man know what you want.”

“I wanna cum, mister.” You whine, putting in the extra effort to keep up that young urchin voice in your dizzied state. “Please?”

“Ain’t my job, son.” Dutch grunts, his hips beginning to stutter. “But I ain’t gonna stop ya.”

You wriggle your arm between yourself and the wall, desperate to get a hand around yourself while Dutch is still fucking you. He’s close, making all those familiar sounds as his fingers dig at your hips. You have to hurry. Contorting your arm, you get a fist formed and pump quickly. The heat builds with the motion and when Dutch groans in your ear, his hips stilling and pressing into you as he cums, you desperately twist and pump in an effort to match him. It doesn’t take much with all that Dutch has fucked into you, your wrist flicking so much from the odd angle that it hurts by the time you’re spurting onto the bricks.

With a hazy head and heavy breath, you can only just feel the feather light kisses Dutch presses onto your neck. “Alright, my dear?”

You hum, not quite capable of speech yet.

“I must say, you play quite the urchin.”

You smile, laughing lightly, but it turns to a groan as he pulls himself out of you.

“I hope we do this again, my dear.” He says, pulling your pants up for you. “I rather enjoyed myself.”

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde x male reader #fictober #kinktober

160 notes · View notes

ashs-cardboard-box · 30 days

Text

Reluctant to learn

~ Van Der Linde gang/Child!Male!Reader

~ Platonic (could be read as familial)

~ 2.5k words

Request :3

...................................................................................................

Headstrong was often a word used to describe you. Realistically, it was an understatement. You were too stubborn for your own good. Often wanting to do what you want to do, if you want to do it, without anyone to tell you otherwise. It was annoying, to say the least. Passed from person to person among camp, trying to better you for you.

It started with Hosea. He was the one to pluck you off the streets so, naturally, he figured he would be the one to be more hands on with you. You found the letters to be damn confusing, and you voiced that frustration many a time. Groaning as you slouch forward dramatically. Your head held in your hands, elbows propped up on the table in the center of camp.

“Why do I have to do thiiss..?” you drawl out with a whine, earning an exasperated sigh from Hosea sitting next to you. His bony fingers resting on the page of the book in front of you. He read the title to you, but you didn’t care enough to listen. Staring off into space time and time again.

“We’ve been over this, son. You’re gonna have’ta learn eventually. You don’t wanna be like Sean, do ya?” He chides, lifting a hand and gently coaxing your hands away from your face. Huffing as you set your hands down in your lap, pouting as you finally turn towards Hosea. Your bottom lip jutting out pitifully.

Hosea gives a breathless chuckle at your face, though burrowing the growing annoyance towards your stubborn attitude. It seemed to be a trait among most of the gang members. His fingertips rapped against the old wooden table, creating an audible, repetitive tap. His brown eyes darted over the first page of the leatherbound book in thought. The page you seemed to struggle to read.

“Here,” he says curtly. Gently closing the book and lifting it from the table, setting it down in your lap. Not taking ‘no’ as an answer, evident by him keeping his hand on the cover until you accept. “Take it to Dutch and Molly. Maybe they’ll have better luck.”

You roll your eyes before wrapping your fingers around the book. Looking down at it in your lap and suddenly getting an idea. Grinning sweetly as you look back up at Hosea with a nod, causing him to quirk an eyebrow in suspicion. You get up from your seat next to Hosea, book in hand, and head over to Dutch’s tent.

As soon as you were out of Hosea’s line of sight, you drop the book in the dirt and run off in the opposite direction of Dutch’s tent. Heading down to your favorite tree along the outskirts of camp, clambering up it. Unfortunately, what you failed to account for, was everyone else who might’ve seen you.

So, when you saw Arthur sauntering up to you, book in hand, you were surprised. It wasn’t a secret you were struggling with reading. Arthur didn’t even have to say anything. Lifting his free hand up towards you and quirking his finger in a “come hither” motion, beckoning you down from your branch.

“Nuh uh,” you defy with a shake of your head. Your feet swinging back and forth idly, your hands gripped firmly along the bark to prevent from falling off. “Don’t wanna read..” you grumble. Arthur sighs with a shake of his head, taking a step closer to the trunk of the tree.

“C’mon, kiddo. You can’t stay up there forever y’know.” He looks up at you calmly, having much more patience towards you than anyone else amongst camp..save for Lenny. You know he’s right, but you wouldn’t actually admit that. Instead, you reluctantly slide down the branch. Hanging from it by your hands until dropping down with a small thud. Standing back up and turning around to look at Arthur with another pout, earning a light chuckle from him, rumbling deep in his chest.

“Believe it or not,” he starts, tugging the denim of his jeans up his thighs as he takes a seat at the base of the tree. Sighing as he rests his back against it, patting the grass next to him with his free hand. You accept the invitation and slowly sit down next to him, your hands resting on your bruised knees.

“I taught Marston to read when he was ‘bout your age. Just joined the gang, thirteen.. fourteen.. rowdy, loud-mouthed..” Arthur trails off with a fond chuckle, followed by a small shake of his head. Wrapping an arm around your waist and gently tugging you into his lap, setting the book down into your own. You had known Arthur and John grew up together in the camp due to Dutch and Hosea, but you hadn’t known that. Arthur taps his finger atop the cover of the book, drawing your attention down to the title.

“Y’know what sounds the letters make, right?” He asks gently, looking over your shoulder towards you in his lap. His broad chest pressed against your back. It felt like he was treating you like little Jack, to which you giggle with a nod.

“Good boy. Now, can you put the sounds together for this first word?” He taps the book cover once again, tracing over the title, carved into the leather. Your eyes followed the tip of his finger before down to the unknown shapes below. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, already beginning to feel frustrated.

“Sound it out, kid. What sound does ‘T’ make?” Arthur encourages warmly. To which you sound a small ‘tuh’. Then he moves onto an ‘H’ with his finger along the title, exhaling sharply in an ‘H’ sound. Pointing towards an ‘E’ and grinning towards you, seeming to have a lot of faith in your advancements.

“E?” you relay with uncertainty, glancing over your shoulder towards him. Arthur hums a small “mhm” in confirmation, rubbing a hand over your arm in an attempt to soothe your stresses. You nod slowly in understanding as you look back down towards the book in your lap. Mentally pairing the letters’ sounds several times over again with a heavy sigh.

“Th- The..?” you repeat and look back over your shoulder towards Arthur in hopes of reassurance. Only for a small smile to spread across your bitten lips upon seeing his broad grin.

“Atta boy!” he praises excitedly, giving your back a pat. Seeing his excitement only makes you feel good. Reading sucks, and if you could, you’d rather avoid it all together, but having someone with the patience to help you through it only makes your confidence grow. “Now, don’t get all weird ‘n squirmy, but this one’s a bit longer.”

His words prompt you to look down at the book again and your eyes widen. You trace your fingers over the indents as you count in your head, your lips moving subtly with each number. Eight whole letters?! That was far too long!

“Go on, sound it out” Arthur encourages, to which you nod tentatively. Parting your lips to begin, only to hear someone calling Arthur’s name. You look up from the book in your lap, watching as Miss Grimshaw approaches.

Susan looks down at the two of you, sitting at the base of the tree as you sit in Arthur’s lap. Taking note of the book in your own lap and putting two and two together. Wasting no time as she clarifies her disruption.

“Might I just borrow you, real quick? We got folks slackin’ off again ‘n they’re too damn drunk to listen to me!” Susan huffs as she folds her arms underneath her bust, an irritated scowl adorning her face. Arthur groans and runs a hand down his face. Nudging you off of his lap and setting you back onto your own two feet, the book clasped in your hands. He pushes himself up off the grass, shaking his legs out after having gone numb due to the extra weight.

“Boy,” he starts, looking down towards you again. “You keep workin’ on that, ya hear? Run along and go find Dutch or Lenny or… Hell- even Jack’ll do.” You nod slowly in understanding. Deciding on finding Dutch, as he was whom you were originally supposed to go find. Arthur ruffles your hair before he walks off behind Susan.

You look down at the book in your hands once again. You could just as easily run off and hide better, or you could do as you’re told and find Dutch. With Arthur’s encouragement fresh in your mind, you shuffle across camp to Dutch’s tent.

Unsurprisingly, he’s preaching again. Something about brotherhood? Though you don’t understand much of it. As you approach, he shuts up. His expression is as stoic as ever as he looks down at you expectantly.

“Uh-” you start, shifting your weight between your feet awkwardly. Your words just died out on your tongue. So you opt to offer the book up towards Dutch, of which he takes. A subtle grin spreads across his lips underneath his mustache.

“Evelyn Miller..” he reads fondly. Miller was his favorite author by far. Often finding his values agreeable and putting them into his own practices amongst the gang. He looks back down toward you in a bit of confusion. “What’s a boy like you doin’ with such a book?”

“Arthur ‘n Hosea want you to help me read.” you shrug, stuffing your hands into the front pockets of your dirt coated jeans. Dutch cocks his head to the side as his piercing eyes dart from you, to the book you had offered up, then back down to you. As usual, an uncomfortably long silence ensues as he debates his response. Then he nods in invitation towards the interior of his tent.

Following Dutch inside, the two of you sit down on the edge of his cot, shoulder to shoulder. Your feet unable to touch the floor fully just yet. Dutch hands you back the book and gives a vague gesture to the cover.

“How far’ve you gotten?” He inquires, setting his palms down onto his knees as he looks over at you. “One of my favorites, y’know. Evelyn Miller is the true talent of this nation.” Dutch adds assertively. No doubt the man admires the ex-professor.

“The” you say bluntly, pointing down at the engraved word on the leather cover, looking back up towards Dutch. “The?” he echoes before sighing heavily, to which you nod.

“That’s..quite alright, son. Just…” Dutch pauses, making another vague gesture down towards the book in your lap. “Pick up where you left off” He was unsure on how exactly he was supposed to teach a pre-teen these things. He wasn’t even the one who taught Arthur nor John. He stuck to himself and that was that. If they learned to read, so be it.

You nod slowly and begin to sound out your letters, just as Arthur had shown you. First an ‘A’, then an ‘M’, then an ‘E’, to an– Dutch groans outwardly, seeming impatient but trying to push through for your sake. You look back up towards him in confusion and he shakes his head. Silently telling you to continue.

‘E’, you pronounce, then moving to an ‘R’, ‘I’, ‘C’, ‘A’, ‘N’. Despite your pronunciation, the word didn’t make sense to you whatsoever. Coming out as an awkward combination of jumbled sounds, like your tongue didn’t want to co-operate with your developing brain.

Dutch sighs as he looks around his tent again. Staring blankly at the floor before suddenly getting an idea. “Kid.” you look back over towards him, prompting him to look back at you.

“What.. nation are we in?” Dutch prompts abruptly, earning a shrug from you. He moves his hand from his leg and down onto the leather cover of the book, covering up the ‘N’. Repeating his question more calmly this time.

“‘Merica..?” you repeat in just as much uncertainty as before. Your eyes dart down to Dutch’s hand, then following his arm back up to his face. Dutch gives a curt nod in confirmation, not nearly as excited as Arthur was about your progress.

“America, right. Now add the ‘N’.” Dutch removes his hand from the book as you look back down towards it once again. “Ameri..can-?” you sigh, only growing more confused by Dutch’s teaching process.

Dutch gives another subtle nod in approval, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t have the patience to sit here as you learn an entire new word, but he wasn’t enough of a dick to shove you off.

“The American..” you read quietly, staring down at the cover. Quickly, you get up from Dutch’s cot and shuffle out of his tent. Already excited to show off your new reading skills to someone- anyone really. The first person you spot is John, sitting by the campfire as usual as he whittles a large stick into some unknown shape.

Waltzing right up to John and thrusting the book in his face excitedly, causing him to recoil in surprise. “Whoa, kid- slow your roll.. Damn near hit me in the face.” He chuckles, nudging the book away from him with the back of his hand, curled around the wood scrap. “What’s up?”

“Sorry,” you mumble sheepishly with a small giggle, a broad grin spread across your face as you show John the cover. “I figured out what it says!” you beam, causing John to crack a grin as well. Your positivity was one of the more wholesome things around camp. A welcome change of pace.

“Oh yeah? What’s it say?” John muses as he looks back down to the wood in hand. Digging his knife into the surface and cutting off chunk by chunk, letting them fall to the ground at his feet.

“‘The A-merican!’” you read, pointing at each word on the cover as if teaching John what it says. Looking back at him with stars in your eyes, hoping he shares your excitement. He doesn’t mirror it like Arthur, but he’s more proud than Dutch.

“You forgot a word,” John says bluntly with a laugh, tapping the tip of his knife against the leather book, drawing your attention back down to it. You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You had gotten so excited that you were finally improving, that you completely forgot the last word.

Turning the book back around towards yourself, sitting down on the ground next to John. He turns in his seat, away from you. Not exactly fond of the idea of accidentally stabbing you as he whittles away. “Keep doin’ what you been doin’.” he encourages under his breath. His eyes back down to his knife.

You don’t respond to him. Instead, trying to focus on piecing together your letters. Some of them don’t make any sense at all. There’s familiar letters like ‘E’, ‘I’, or ‘N’, but they don’t make the same sounds like last time. Grumbling in frustration, you mumble something akin to ‘in-fear-no’.

“Inferno,” John corrects pointedly. “The American Inferno. Dutch’s favorite.” You look up towards him excitedly, a toothy grin splitting across your face. You just sounded out the cover of your new book! With help and immense frustration, of course.

You carefully pull open the cover and look down at the first page, only to find page after page of even more confusing words– closing it once again. Maybe you’ll try some more another time.

....................................................................................................

Surprisingly fun to write ! I enjoyed this- thank you sm :D

#rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan x male reader #John Marston x male reader #hosea matthews x male reader #Dutch Van Der Linde x male reader #susan grimshaw

61 notes · View notes

bagelboys-withcreamcheese · 9 months

Text

Dutch Van Der Linde x Male!Reader

*during one of Dutch’s speeches*

Hosea, whispering: Did you hear that voice crack?

Reader, also whispering: That wasn't a voice crack, that was a whole voice meth.

—

Dutch: I hate you.

Reader: Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.

—

Reader: Oooh, a train!

Dutch: We’re in a train station, Y/N.

—

Reader: I can't imagine what Dutch is planning, but I can tell you two things: I won't like it and it won't be legal.

—

Dutch: Thank you for engaging in the mortifying existence of being known so that I may partake in the euphoric experience of knowing you.

Reader: *finger guns*

—

Reader: Look, I know you think my judgement's clouded because I like Dutch a little bit.

Arthur, holding up Reader’s journal: You doodled your wedding invitation.

Reader: No, that's our joint tombstone.

Arthur: Oh, my mistake.

—

Reader: That shirt looks great, Hosea.

Hosea: Thanks.

Reader: But I bet it would look even better on Dutch's floor.

Dutch: …Are you hitting on Hosea for me?

—

Dutch: I love you

Reader: Why?

Dutch: I honestly don’t know

—

Reader, looking in the mirror: How did you pull that?

Dutch: How did I romance you, you mean?

Reader: No. Hosea. I’ve seen old pictures, he was way out of your league.

—

Reader: If a hot man disagrees with me, I will immediately change my views. I have no principles.

Dutch: Maybe you should have principles.

Reader: You’re right, maybe I should.

Hosea: No, you shouldn’t.

Reader: No, I shouldn’t.

—

Hosea, looking at Dutch: Do you ever have the urge to tell someone to shut up, even when they aren’t talking?

Reader, also looking at Dutch: Yes.

—

Reader, watching Dutch sleep: He’s my life, my love, my everything. He looks so peaceful while sleeping. I love him so much.

Dutch: *snores*

Reader: I can’t live like this.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde x male!reader #incorrect quotes #vandermatthews

162 notes · View notes

zvdvdlvr · 11 months

Text

- in which they watch you die

☆ - featuring :: arthur morgan, john marston, dutch van der linde

☆ - warnings :: death, coarse language, death threats, smoking, murder, reader's gender is not specified, pov changes

☆ - k.j.'s diary says... this writing is both short and not my best work. sean maguire, javier escuella, charles smith will be in part two

☆ - ARTHUR MORGAN

my fault, all my goddamn fault was all arthur could think when he watched your body fall in slow motion to the ground.

"arthur!" dutch called over the loud gunfire. arthur was unable to tear his gaze from the warm blood leaving the four bullet holes in your side dripping onto the ground.

he told you to come into the bank, to help him get up to the roof to snipe the guards. he told you to leave the relatively safe position you were in to come help arthur with a job he could do perfectly fine alone. he just wanted you out of there and quite unfortunately, you died because of that.

"get up to the roof, son!" dutch yelled, shoving arthur out to the alley of the saint denis bank.

"'m sorry, y/n. god i am sorry. i ain't- christ. . . i ain't mean to getcha killed. shit, i ain't even know where you were," arthur mumbled. he climbed three ladders before he got to the spot that would do him well.

he killed every guard he saw with a headshot, spilling the oily bastards' brains onto the ground and walls of the glorified 'city of the future'.

not five minutes later the man arthur called his brother was shot in front of him too.

ain't that just the way, arthur thought. the man's jaw was sore from how hard he was clenching it, and his eyes stung like nothing else.

"let's go, damnit!"

the gunslinger was pulled to his feet.

arthur was pushed forward. "we need to get out now so there aren't more dead later," dutch said.

and that was that. . . for now.

☆ - JOHN MARSTON

it was completely preventable, what happened to you. at least from what john heard.

of fucking course he had to be locked up the day you died.

he had looked around when he got back, a wry smile pulling his lips thin. past arthur's shoulders, past sadie's unsmiling face. "where's y/n?" he asked, smile faltering.

sadie swallowed, eying arthur. "uh. . . y/n-"

"is dead," arthur finished. "agent numbnuts, uh, ambushed us. we were all good up until the end, adrenaline. . . adrenaline wore off. y/n fell behind me," arthur explained, avoiding eye contact with john. "they showed me two bullet holes they'd been hidin'. . . y/n died in my arms. talkin' 'bout you." arthur clenched his jaw and sniffed.

sadie looked uncomfortable. she'd gotten close with y/n and she had been crying alongside arthur while y/n spent their last minutes just talking with the pair. it's been so long since i've just talked with someone. ain't know how much i missed it, they had said. miss you asshats already, was one of the last things that had bubbled up from y/n's bloody lips.

"we're sorry, john."

"did- did you bury them?" john's voice wavered dangerously.

sadie nodded. "we can, uh. . . show you."

the rest of the day was a blur. a mix of voices, the slur of a familiar voice. john didn't know what to do.

☆ - DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

"goddamn it, y/n!" dutch yelled. the man's voice was hoarse from lack of sleep and water. his irritation stemmed from plans going wrong, scores being set-ups, and his own gang showing slowly showing their distrust.

"what, dutch?" y/n asked tiredly. they massaged their temple.

their most recent argument was because of y/n tackling dutch to prevent him from being shot in the shoulder. because of this, dutch missfired his bullet and eventually their getaway stagecoach was blown up.

"you have nothing to say?! no apologies!? we could be halfway to tahiti right now, y/n! if it weren't for you-"

y/n scoffed in disbelief and ran a hand down their face. "if it weren't for me saving your life? how much do you even know about tahiti, dutch? i trust you, i have faith in you, i believe in the power of this gang but please. we need to take our time with these pla-"

"don't you tell me what to do!" dutch strode over to y/n who was shaking their head.

y/n- clearly done with the conversation- made their way to their horse. from the faint lamplight, y/n could make out javier and charles both watching the interaction. micah tipped his hat to y/n; micah didn't talk to y/n enough to hate them. john watched dutch and y/n from the fire, already sensing something in his gut.

the anger radiating off of dutch was downright murderous. y/n hadn't even done anything wrong! john gnawed on his lip, one hand unconsciously drifting to his holstered gun.

"we are not done talking about this!" dutch grabbed y/n's arm and yanked hard.

"fuck!" y/n cried, instinctively jerking away from dutch's touch. y/n tore their arm from dutch's hold and, because of all the power that y/n used to get away from dutch, fell forward. a loud snap followed right after y/n collided with the ground.

a morbid choking sound fell from y/n's lips as their head made sharp contact with a rock. y/n felt blood rush to their head because of the odd angle y/n landed in: their head was below their broken legs.

dutch stood, parayzed in his spot. blood flowed out of the side of y/n's head, sliding down the dirt in rivulets. "i'm sorry," he whispered.

"y/n!" javier called, running to where y/n lie. charles followed closely behind, along with john and arthur.

charles set both of their lookout lamps by y/n's head. "be calm, y/n, you're okay," charles soothed, clutching their hand.

javier grasped y/n's other flailing arm, tears springing into his eyes. "you're okay. por favor- please- keep your eyes open," he begged. "mrs. grimshaw will be here soon, yeah? she will get you all fixed up."

arthur shouted for the women to hurry up because he knew y/n probably wouldn't survive this.

charles kept mostly quiet, checking y/n's pulse at random. javier was telling a story, talking about all the beautiful sunsets and sunrises in mexico. john waited off to the side, watching tilly and mrs. grimshaw and abigail share a look before giving arthur a terrible look.

dutch fled. he got on his bright white horse and left. he didn't know how to deal with thaf. he just killed you. you are dead because of him. dutch felt tears roll down his face. he felt the softness of his horse's hair. and he also felt the burning two foot hole in his chest because of the hollow, fearful look in your eyes after hitting your head.

on and on he rode, never stopping and never stalling. with no destination in mind, dutch figured he'd ride till morning then go back to help bury you.

you. you are his new ghost.

218 notes · View notes

queenie-the-court-jester · 17 days

Note

Kim the Dutch landrace goat. (I had to memorize that.) IS THERE ANY CONTENT SURROUNDING HIM PLEWEASEE HE SEEMS INTERESTING HE PEEKS MY INTEREST I THINK HE'S A LITTLE HOT HE HAS POTETNAIL (I think.) PLEASE

🐐Kim was a pretty chill guy. Well, when he wants to be. You've had to grab and yank him off people more times than you could count just because he got jealous of them looking at you for too long. Some ending up with a scratch or two, or a really bad headache from where he headbutted them

🐐if you give him the chance, he'll follow you around. Hiding behind cars, structures, other hybrids, and just breathing really heavily as he stares from afar. He has a lot of body hair. It's a pain having to shave him.

🐐he makes sexist jokes sometimes. But just give him a good thwack on the head and he'll shut up. He's a fatass hoe and he'll eat all your food. He's beefing with polka

You only get three headcanons. Why? I don't know, don't ask why

#queenie ocs #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #ocs #queenie writes #yandere male #yandere #yandere male x reader #male yandere #Yuii the cotton simp #Yandere hybrid x reader #Kim the dutch landrace goat #Yandere oc x reader #Yandere oc #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #Yandere boyfriend

52 notes · View notes

coweyloaf · 2 months

Text

So, the pull has ended and the fics you picked were:

✨Characters reaction to finding out your a toe walker

And

⭐Roller skating with characters modern AU

For anyone wanting another Rdr2 character just keep in mind Im only writing mxm so please suggest male characters :))

Edit: I accidentally put Kieran down twice, ignore that, I'll add up the percentage for him when it's over

#rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #red dead fandom #red dead #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #kieran duffy #javier escuella #dutch van der linde #sean macguire #lenny summers #hosea matthews #bill williamson #john marston

37 notes · View notes

twinkmusk · 8 months

Text

writing dutch van der linde bootlicking fanfiction just how god intended

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde x male reader #fanfiction

86 notes · View notes

scarfacemarston · 7 months

Note

Dutch (I'm so predictable). H.

Thanks for sending this! It really helps to send it here. Prompt here. H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) Dutch seems like a pretty tactile guy! He's always clapping people on the shoulder or patting them on the back. He's not afraid of showing affection as we see with the more tender parts with Molly and is pretty affectionate with Hosea as well. PDA seems to be okay within a certain extent. Everyone knows you're his partner. I think he would feel the situation out. If you seem like the type who likes hugs, I think he'd encourage that and do so as long as he was in the right mood, but he's definitely not the type to force it on someone. Dutch is a HUGE guy. Like, canonically if we're going by Benjamin his voice performer's height, 6'4. He's also very broad. Imagine getting a hug from someone that tall and strong! I would imagine it feels very safe and given that he likes to wear soft things like velvet, it's probably comfty as heck. It feels very safe, but if you reach his face, his mustache might tickle a bit.

#rdr 2 #dutch van der linde #red dead redemption 2 #van der linde gang #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde x female reader #dutch van der linde x male reader #dutch van der linde x gender neutral reader

57 notes · View notes

issdisgrace · 1 year

Text

This man has a slutty waist and a fat ass how could I not want to dick him down

Edit: I found more pictures

#dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x male reader #dutch van der linde x reader #van der linde gang #van der linde gang x male reader #van der linde gang x reader #red dead redemption #red dead redemption x male reader #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead #red dead x male reader #red dead x reader #red dead 2 #red dead 2 x male reader #red dead 2 x reader

1K notes · View notes

orphicrose · 2 months

Note

Ok so i just saw your Hosea x child reader and it was amazing (obviously) now I'm wondering if you could do Hosea x reader who's an old friend. The reader has a somewhat stable life, used to be a doctor but moved to a small cot in the mountains. They kinda keep in contact via letters but not really that often because the reader isn't too keen to gi into town and send out mail. What if Hosea has to introduce the reader to the gang at some point, like what if they are on the run again so Hosea leads them up the mountain onto the reader's property to kinda hide there. At first reader doesn't recognize Hosea because they haven't seen each other in a long time, but then he invites them all in, maybe he's even got enough room for all of them and the reader is just this sweet old man, same age as Hosea who treat everyone with respect if they deserve it, helps them out, doesn't judge etc. Hosea is just so glad that his family and his crush best friend are getting along.

Colter (Hosea x Male!Reader)

Note: In an au where Hosea takes the gang to readers home instead of colter. Thank you for the Request!

Warnings ! ! None

W/C : 1.1k

----------------------------------------

The harsh wind was suffocatingly cold, rugged mountainous landscape making travel near impossible. The atmosphere unforgiving, and bleak. The van der linde troops struggling to maintain life, every exhale met with a cold cloud. Huddling together in the back of the wagon to invade at each others warmth. Arthur shivered on his horse uncontrollably, him and Dutch shouting back and forth.

"There's nothing out there, Dutch!" He yelled over the heaving of ice through the air, powerful enough to pull him from his horse.

"Keep looking!" Dutchs voice broke as he shouted back.

"I know a place, keep going north!" Hosea gripped at the reins on his icy seat atop the wagon.

"You heard him!"

The group travelled the treacherous land, having no other choice but to push on. A flicker of life in the distance shining hope down on them, a small cabin revealing itself from the harsh winter.

Hosea let himself in first, letting the group know there was no danger. The beautiful heat from the raging fire hit them hard, offering instant relief from their dampened cloths. But perhaps they should have knocked, first. As a strange man had the barrel of his gun pointed at Dutchs head.

"Easy, yn" Hosea stepped forward, hand stretched in front of him.

The old man slowly dropped his weapon,, eyes lighting up at the sight of Hosea.

"Hosea! Long time no see old pal" His arms pulled the man into an embrace, Hosea appreciating the extra layer of warmth. "Caught in the Blizzard, I see?"

"Oh you know me. Always getting myself into life or death situations" He patted his old friends back and then retreated from the hug, pointing to the shivering group of people behind him. "Speaking of, don't suppose you could help a old bunch of delinquents?"

Y/n stood there for a second in thought, frail hands touching at his chin. "Well, There's not a lot of space but I don't mind sharing it for a few nights. As long as y'all don't reck the place"

"Of course, y/n. And no need to worry, we will repay your kindness. We have some skilled hunters amidst our criminals." Hosea pats Arthur on the back rather hard, an indication to his next mission.

"I'm sure you do" Y/n chuckles, inviting them inside.

"We really appreciate this, what was it, y/n?" Dutch offers the man a hand.

"Thats right" He returns the hand shake and smiles warmly at the charismatic man.

"Dutch, I suppose you could call me the leader of these 'bunch of delinquents'"

"Ah, I see" Y/n gave Hosea a knowing look. Having spoken about him in the letters they shared over the years. The moment took a turn when Pearson and Javier began to heave in the injured Davey. His pale skin mimicking that of the snow that surrounded them.

"He's not going to make it for much longer if we don't do something" Abigail moved everyone out of the way as they hauled the almost corpse from the bitter cold.

"Bring him in here" Y/n waved his hand as he cleared the wooden table sat in his small kitchen.

At least 20 minutes of tireless work and tense vibes had passed, y/n doing his best to stop the bleeding and prevent infection. Davey was in a stable position, his body being warmed by a fire as he lay in a makeshift bed on the floor. Still remaining still and in a deep sleep. But alive nonetheless.

Everyone had found a space to settle in. Drying out their clothes around the room, and taking the time to finally rest. John, who had been picked up on the way, lay similarly to Davey. Still and wounded. The idiot was mauled by wolves. Luckily for him, his horse braved the blizzard enough to get him back to the group in time.

The rest of the men sipped on hot beverages made by y/n, enjoying the company of good stories and a warm shelter. Taking it in while they could, for the morning to come could only bring worse obstacles.

"I was a Doctor, years ago. Saved Hoseas life countless times. But, as most people do these days, I had bad people after me. Had to move somewhere more remote. Its really not that bad in the summer." Y/n sat, leaning on his knee on the floor with a coffee in his hand.

"Saved my life" Hosea scoffed. "You bandaged up a little scrape for me. A child could have done that"

"It was a bullet hole wound you terrible man" Y/n laughed, playfully shoving him.

They chuckled together. Listening to each other as they shared their silly stories. Ones about when Arthur was a boy, or how they'd picked up John as a child.

"We can't put into words how grateful we are for the shelter, Y/n" Dutch put a hand to his heart.

"My pleasure. Think of it as a sorry for almost shooting y'all earlier"

"Don't worry about feeding us. Pearson over here has been our designated chef for years now. I can't imagine he is about to quit now" He pointed to a larger man in the kitchen, making conversation with Swanson with a bottle in both their hands. Y/n chuckled and nodded.

"Well, good luck finding food or even fresh meat. I have to sacrifice myself once every two weeks at the moment to make it into the nearest town"

"Valentine?" Hosea questioned

"Yeah, that's the one. Not to far South-East of here" Y/n had planted an idea in Hosea's head. That would be where they will find themselves next.

The group found themselves drifting to sleep as the night grew old. Scattered on the chairs, the floor next to the fire and any space they could find. But they were warm and they were ok.

Y/n and Hosea moved to the bed, away from the swarm of people on the floor. "You are welcome here whenever you need, old friend" y/n got himself into bed and patted the empty space next to him.

Hosea gladly took the invitation and plated himself in the warmth of the blanket.

"Noted, y/n" They shared a smile, before letting themselves fall to sleep.

It had been weeks since they had left the mountains, and settled in Horse-shoe Overlook. Hosea thought about y/n most days, wondering how he was getting on. He still hadn't replied to the last letter he sent. But he will be waiting with anticipation. Perhaps he should take a trip up there soon.

#fanfiction #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #red dead redemption arthur #red dead fandom #hosea matthews #hosea x reader #arthur x reader #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #male reader

38 notes · View notes

allzelemonz · 9 months

Text

Whipping Boy: Dutch Van der Linde X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’, ‘son’, and ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: O’Driscoll Reader, Reader is the biggest virgin in the West, loss of virginity, grinding, thigh riding, masturbation, dom/sub-ish, overuse of ‘sir’, mentions of beatings, actively learning what sex is and why it’s hype Summary: When you finally get the chance to run away from the O’Driscolls after only ever being their punching bag, you end up in the hands of Colm’s rival and have to earn the protection you need.

The fire in front of you is a risk. Really everything is a risk now. You know Colm isn’t kind to traitors and he would certainly know that his favorite man to punish is missing. You’re not entirely sure why the man always blames you, why he enjoys beating you. It’s in the past now and you hope it stays that way, that’s what matters. The fire will go for another hour, just long enough to warm your hands because you can’t feel them, then you move on.

A stick breaks behind you and it takes all of your self control not to move. You need to wait and draw your gun when the time is right. But the time never comes, a rope catches your chest first. You try to reach the holster but your attacker beats you to it, throwing the gun aside and hogtying you with tight knots. From the footsteps, there are two of them, all you can hope is that they’re not Colm’s boys.

“What’d ya catch?” A twangy voice asks.

“Don’t know.” The one that tied you says with a bit of an accent. “Let’s see.”

The man pats you down, looking for pockets. He flips you over to do the same and finds nothing. You ran on a whim, no time to grab anything. The man that tied you is darker skinned than his friend, much better dressed too.

“He’s got nothing.” He sighs.

The other man comes closer, his eyes narrowing at you. He’s heavier set with a beard and half pinned up hat. “Hold on… he’s an O’Driscoll.”

You shake your head quickly. “N-No, sir. I’m not, I’m not, I swear I’m not.”

The bigger man laughs. “Squirrly too.”

“Should we take him back to Dutch?” The other asks. “He might have some information.”

That’s worse. That’s much worse than Colm’s boys, they’re Dutch’s.

“Sure.” The bigger one says. “Maybe he’ll be entertainin’.”

You struggle against your bindings. “L-Look, fellas, I’m not with Colm-”

“Horseshit!” The bigger one yells.

The other chuckles. “You all dress the same, cabrón. Hard to hide like that.”

He pulls you to your feet and shoves you towards the bigger man. You’re dragged to their horses, hidden in the trees, and hoisted onto the back of a large brown beast of a horse. The larger man isn’t gentle, he throws you in a way that makes your stomach feel the impact as you land.

“Sit still, fer yer own good, boy.” He says as he mounts.

You don’t argue. There’s no way you could. After all your time being at Colm’s mercy you’ve learned that fighting it gets you nowhere. The man still hits you along the ride, just for fun you assume. Perhaps you just have a punchable face.

When the horses stop you have a second of relief from the taunts and the violence, just a second before you’re roughly pulled from the horse and thrown on the ground. Your legs collapse from the extra pressure of the large man’s hand on your shoulder and you nearly swallow dust that’s kicked up from your landing. There’s shouting and footsteps before you’re pulled up to your knees and the familiar large hand grips roughly at your hair to make you look up at who you can only presume to be Dutch Van der Linde.

“What have we here?” He muses, hands on his gunbelt in a strikingly similar way to Colm. “Bill?”

The large man, Bill, answers in a smug voice. “Found ‘em out by the river, some O’Driscoll dog.”

“I can see that.” Dutch sighs, his eyes looking over the green vest you should’ve thrown away. “Let's see what he has to say. Bring him.”

Bill pulls you to your feet and drags you after Dutch to a large white tent. Inside it’s well kept, nicely decorated, very different from anything O’Driscoll. Dutch sits in a chair and picks up a cup to drink from.

“I will handle the boy, Bill.” Dutch says. “Cut him loose.”

“Ya sure, Dutch?”

“Go on.”

Bill grumbles to himself but cuts you free and disappears from the tent a second later. You move your eyes to Dutch, not quite meeting his.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t kill you, son?”

You watch as he calmly stirs the liquid in his cup as if the question he asked were a normal one. He looks up at you and catches your eyes for a moment before you get the chance to look away. The last time you looked Colm in the eye without permission he tied you up to the horse’s hitching post and left you out for the night in nothing but a union suit.

“Sir, I… I’m not with Colm.” You take a shaky breath. “I don’t want to be, anyway.”

“Why is that, son?”

You stare at his feet as you speak, unconsciously wringing your hands. “I just couldn’t stay there, sir.”

He chuckles. “You act like a frightened dog, son. Is there a reason for that?”

“Just don’t let him find me, sir.” You glance up at him for a second, just long enough to see an interested expression on his face. “You could let me go… or I could be useful to you, j-just don’t send me back to him or anything. I can’t be there.”

“Useful?” He muses. “How so?”

“Whatever you need, sir.” You say all too quickly, looking up enough to see a bit of a smirk on his face. “If you can protect me from Colm, I’ll do anything.”

He leans back in his chair, setting his cup down. “Come here, son.”

You step closer, just a foot away.

“Here, boy.” He points to the ground just in front of him.

You shiver as you lower yourself to your knees in the space he pointed to, right between his legs.

“You said anything, boy.” He leans forward, his hand slowly reaching out and tracing along your jaw. He holds your chin to make you look at him. “Did you mean it?”

“I-I suppose so, sir.”

“You suppose?”

“I… T-There are just some things I’ve never done before and I don’t know exactly what I-”

He shushes you and you go quiet. His hand is gentle as it travels up to cup your cheek. You look up at him and find only more gentleness in his expression.

“It’s alright, son.” He sighs as his thumb strokes your cheek. “Colm never used you?”

You blink a little rapidly at the question. Colm beat you, sure, but he never touched you. A couple of the boys might’ve gotten handsy when they were drunk, but no one had ever forced you or propositioned you beyond dirty comments in passing. It just never happened.

“No, sir.”

He’s quiet for a moment as he looks over your face. “It’s real simple, son. Just do as you’re told.” His thumb trails over to your lips, running along the bottom one and dragging it down a bit before letting it bounce back into place. “Ya seem good at that.”

Your breath catches for a moment from the touch. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Stand up n’ strip for me, boy.”

You hesitate, your nerves getting the better of your tendency to obey. When you don’t move, Dutch’s hand grabs at your cheek harshly and you gasp.

“What’s the matter, boy?”

“S-Sorry, sir… Just that I’ve never…” You relax a bit as Dutch softens again, listening. “I’ve never been bare in front of somebody before.”

He smiles and you can’t quite place the expression but you know it isn’t an innocent one. “Never?”

“No, sir.”

“My, my…” He leans back in his seat. “Allright, son. Ya can earn your protection piece by piece.”

You nod, hoping for nothing more than to not be returned to Colm.

“Stand.” He orders.

You do, your knees aching in the process. He spreads his legs and pats one of his thighs. You timidly settle onto it, your own legs spreading apart to rest on top of him.

“That’s it, son.” Dutch smiles as he takes your hand and slowly places it over a hard bulge in his pants. “Now move yer hips n’ yer hand, just let it happen, son.”

You’ve never felt another man’s dick before and Dutch’s feels much bigger than you imagined most men should be. Given what he said, you’ll have to deal with it more later. Dutch’s hand squeezes yours, making it wrap around him. You take his hint, moving your hand against him and trying to think of what could feel good.

“Hips, son.” Dutch mutters, his head lulling back and his hand resting on your waist.

He grips your side tightly, urging you to move and you follow him. You buck your hips slightly, the unfamiliar motion feeling weird while perched on Dutch’s leg. But you feel it, what you assume Dutch is wanting you to feel. It’s barely there, but it gets better when you do it again and again. It feels good.

You try to keep your hand moving against Dutch in whatever way you can manage and he seems content, so your primary focus is on the movement of your hips. From the way he chuckles when you feel spasms overcome you, you assume it’s premature. Nonetheless, it rocks through you and Dutch moves his leg for you as you ride it out.

“Never came before, have you?” Dutch asks, his hands suddenly both on your waist and his lips close to your ear as if time had skipped.

“N-Never…” You say with heavy breath, the feeling still shooting pins through your body.

“Enjoy yourself?”

You nod, your head spinning a bit when you do.

“Next part could not be easier, son.” Dutch whispers, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “Sit there and look pretty.”

He leans back in his chair, away from you. The lack of support makes you have to rest your hands on him to catch yourself. You watch as Dutch unfastens his pants and, for the first time aside from the occasional accident, you see another man’s dick. It’s not so different from yours, but it stands on its own, something you’ve never dared to remove your pants to see on yourself. Your lips part at the sight and you suddenly understand why some folks talk about using their mouth down there.

Dutch puts his hand on your cheek again, bringing your eyes back to his. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a man’s cock, boy.”

“I-I-I have… just never so… close and…”

“You like it, son?”

You try to avoid them but Dutch’s eyes are so nice to look at that you can’t help but hold their gaze when you catch it. “Yes, sir.”

“Then you watch real close.” Dutch says, holding his hand out in front of your mouth. “Spit for me.”

You gather saliva in your mouth and spit it into his hand as he asked.

“Good boy.”

Something about the phrase sends a shiver through you. Dutch brings his hand down to his dick, the one on your cheek tilting your head to ensure you watch as he spreads your spit over himself. You can’t think of anywhere else you want to look. His hand grips and begins to move up and down in slow pumps. You unconsciously wiggle against his leg, now feeling the stiffness of your own dick.

“Don’t look away, son.” Dutch orders as his hand moves faster. “But you can move.”

You keep your eyes fixed on Dutch’s hand, watching as he gives himself an occasional squeeze and rubs his thumb along his tip every once and a while, but you also move your hips like you did before. Now you know what you’re chasing and with Dutch’s demonstration, you cum within a minute. Dutch moves his leg against you again, helping you through the high, but he doesn’t falter on himself. When he releases, his cum lands on the floor behind you but some spurts onto your pants. You watch, transfixed, as Dutch strokes himself through it and wanting nothing more than his hand on you now that you know what it can do.

His other hand brings your head up, making you meet his eyes again. “More tomorrow, son. Alright?”

You nod slightly. “Y-Yes, sir.”

He pushes at your shoulder slightly and you retreat, standing and stepping back from him. You watch as he puts himself away and turns his focus back to you. His eyes look over you before he stands. He takes a rag from the table and dips it in a bucket of water, ringing it before bringing it over and wiping the bit of his cum from your pants, your own release hidden by the dark shade of the fabric.

“Come with me, son.” He says, tossing the rag aside and putting an arm around your shoulders. He leads you out of his tent and gestures to an older woman in a red dress. “Miss Grimshaw will take care of you ‘til I need you again.”

You nod. “Okay, sir.”

“Behave yourself, do as you’re told.” Dutch drops his arm from you and turns back to his tent. “Colm won’t find you here, you have my word.”

With that he disappears back into his tent and you’re left standing there with ruined pants and a newfound set of knowledge and feelings. You take a deep breath and step out onto the grass, already anticipating what Dutch will want tomorrow.

209 notes · View notes

ashs-cardboard-box · 27 days

Text

The Sin of Envy

~ Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Child!Arthur Morgan/Child!Male Reader

~ Familial (found family)

~2.7k words

Request :3

....................................................................................................

You owed it all to the Van Der Linde gang. Having lost it all as a mere boy, you grew up on the streets for most of your life. Just a few months after you had turned thirteen, two co-founders of said gang picked you up and treated you like their own flesh and blood.

You thought of the two of them as your fathers. Hosea was a gentle, patient individual. He took over as your primary caretaker. Feeding you, teaching you to read, write, and pick apart safe from toxic herbs. As such, you were a lot closer to him, though that’s not to say you didn’t care for your other father figure.

Dutch was a more stern, focused man. He kept you in line should you disobey either him or Hosea. While he wasn’t as open about his affection towards you, his protection and observations over your well-being showed he had a heart.

Living with them for the next three years of your life were nothing short of great– as great as life on the road can be. Dutch and Hosea were slowly attempting to gather members for a gang, with little success. The two would always praise you for the fine young man you’ve grown to be, starting to teach you your way around a gun.

However, when another, younger, orphan boy was picked up in the same manner you were, you couldn’t help but feel a little off about it. Stubbornly standing a ways off to the side with your arms folded across your chest as your father figures feed the boy at one of the few tables around a newly formed camp.

You didn’t know his name, and you weren’t sure you wanted to. You wanted to march right up to them and ask Hosea to teach you again the proper positioning of your weaponry, but you didn't. Instead, you stand and stare as silently as possible.

Much to your dismay, Dutch is more observant than you thought. He looks over towards you and away from the new boy, that same blank expression on his face. “Boy. C’mere.” He beckons, pulling Hosea and the boy’s attention over to you as well.

Feeling awkward with their eyes on you, you shuffle over to the poorly constructed, wooden table. Slowly dropping your arms back down to your sides, your shoulders slouching forward slightly. “Ah, Y/N! I don’t s’pose we’ve introduced you to Arthur here!”

Hosea seems excited about the new addition to your family. A wide grin spread across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling. You and Arthur don’t say anything to one another. Staring at each other as if trying to read what the other is thinking.

Arthur looks away from you and turns back down to his food in front of him on the table. Stuffing his face as if he hadn’t eaten in a long while– a statement you could fully believe. He was scrawny, but you couldn’t deny the height the other boy had on you, only serving to make you more envious.

“He’s gonna stick around for a while. Found him the same way we found you, y’know.” Hosea points out with a chuckle as Dutch merely nods, turning back to his conversation with Arthur, almost seeming like a promise of a better life if he joined the gang.

You look back towards Hosea with a small sigh. Muttering a quiet “okay, papa” and giving your father figure a subtle smile. Accepting that as your agreement, Hosea joins their conversation once more, shutting you out.

You can’t deny the pang of resentment and jealousy building in your chest. Taking your leave and heading back to your tent to find something to do. You weren’t really used to being on your own anymore. After having to fend for yourself for the first decade of your life, you assumed you wouldn’t feel this way. Unfortunately, you got attached.

You’re not sure how long has passed of you sitting still on your bedroll, staring blankly at the floor, deep in thought, but you get caught off guard by a short “hey.”

Lifting your head, you find Arthur standing at the entrance of your open tent. The sun casting his shadow across the floor. You’re not sure why, but his presence just upsets you further. Your fingers beginning to fidget with one another as your hands rest in your lap.

“What’d’ya want..?” you grumble, trying to keep your harshness under wraps. He’s only two years younger than you, at fourteen, but that fact makes you feel worse. You’re scared. The last thing you want to be is an old toy your father figures toss aside for something new. Someone younger and much different from you.

Arthur shrugs with a hum of “i dunno.” While you got passed down some of Hosea’s old clothes as a hand-me-down, Arthur’s clothes are dirty and torn. The hems of his pant legs are frayed, the fragile strings flicking with each slight gust of wind.

“You wanna play dominoes?” He asks hopefully with a small tilt of his head. You don’t really want to be so mean to the new boy, but you can already feel that urge mounting. You take a deep breath before responding with a curt “no.”

“Well why not? You got somethin’ better to do?” Arthur asks curiously, but to you, it’s just plain obnoxious. Pushing yourself to your feet and crossing your tent. Walking right passed Arthur without another word to him.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you just didn’t stop walking. Right out of the small camp and heading wherever your feet took you. Slowly shuffling through the dense woods, brooding as your boots step over leaf after twig, crunching under your weight.

It wasn’t until you made it to the nearby town that you realized just what you had done. You were forbidden from leaving camp without either Dutch or Hosea until you could learn how to properly handle your gun. They just cared for you, after all.

Unfortunately, you had the bright idea to prove yourself to them. If you could prove you were strong, maybe they’d like you over Arthur again. You wanted your family to yourself again. You refused to be replaced.

Waltzing right into the budding city with nothing but false confidence keeping your head held high. Your mind darting over what you could possibly do to show you’re a strong man. The civilians didn’t bat an eye, seeming to not even notice you among the many other individuals.

Taking what little you’ve gathered from Dutch’s schemes with Hosea, you settled on pickpocketing. It seemed easy enough, and you could make a lot of money depending on who you choose.

Now looking at the surrounding people like nothing more than their wallets, you spot a shorter, older man waiting for the train with a newspaper held between his fingers. Perfect, you thought. Taking it upon yourself to take a seat next to him on the old wooden bench. He doesn’t seem to care about your presence; he’s far too enamored by whatever’s happening in the region.

Slowly, you slide your hand across the unsanded wood, feeling prick after prick of splinters threatening to pierce your skin. You’re too focused to care. Your eyes rapidly flicking from your hand, to the man, to something mundane in front of you to avoid seeming like you’re staring at him.

You make good progress. Getting as close as caressing the man’s pocket jean with your pinky, before you hear a ruffling of the newspaper, followed by a rough grip around your wrist, causing you to hiss in pain.

“The hell you think you’re doin’, kid?” The man demands, tugging your wrist away from his body, but not letting go of it. His face contorted into one of frustration at your audacity. You don’t respond, and that seems like the wrong choice to make. Staring doe-eyed at the man with a small grimace, wanting to be strong and not show pain nor fear, though you feel it all.

The man grunts in disapproval, giving your wrist a sharp tug and sending you down onto the floor of the train station. Propping yourself up on your elbows as you stare up at him, but you don’t run away. You’re not strong. You’re terrified.

“Someone oughta teach you a lesson, boy.” He spits coldly as he stands up, reaching down to tug you up by the collar of your shirt and drag you to your unsteady feet. Letting go of you and taking a step back putting up his fists, glaring at you to tell you to follow. “Be a man. Fight me for it.” he challenges

Feeling that false, stubborn confidence return, you put your fists up at the level of your eyes, copying the man. The man has both an experience advantage, and a physical advantage over you. He might be short in stature, but he’s bulky in his old age– seeming in his late fifties. You, on the other hand, barely hold your own when fake sparring against Dutch, only meant to be a teaching lesson.

Instead of letting you try and strike first, the man cocks you in the first hit. Your head knocking back as you take a right jab straight to the nose, causing your eyes to water. Your form curling into itself as you whine in pain. Your nose dripping blood down your lips and chin. The crimson liquid staining your hands.

Not giving you time to brace yourself, the man takes you by your shoulders and knees you in the gut, knocking the wind out of you as your knees give out. “Your daddy would be disappointed. You ain’t a man. Might as well become one of ‘em two dollar whores.” he scoffs a laugh, glaring down at you as if you’re the scum of the Earth.

All you can do is clutch your stomach with your entire forearm as your other hand clasps over your mouth. The blood from your nose dripping down the back of your hand and hitting the train platform with a near silent splat. Looking up at the man through watery eyes, choking back tears.

The man pays you no sympathy. Palming your forehead and shoving you backwards, causing you to land awkwardly on your back. Groaning quietly from behind your blood stained hand. He stares down at you coldly for a long moment before stepping away from you. Bending down to pick up his newspaper from off his spot on the bench before taking his seat again, acting as if nothing happened. “Get outta here, kid. If you know what’s good for ya.”

As soon as you regain the ability to breathe properly, you scamper to your feet and run off with your tail between your legs to go lick your wounds. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you retrace your steps through the town and back into the woods. Blood staining your face and shirt.

You’re reluctant to go back to camp. What were you supposed to say? That you were jealous of their new favorite and decided to go get your ass kicked? You stumble slowly through the woods, massaging your sore abdomen. Each time you sniffle due to your tears, only swallowing more blood than you should.

Staring at the empty clearing around twenty feet away, signifying the entrance of camp, you stop. You’re a mess. You feel completely emasculated, hurt and jealous. Wondering if the stray boy they call Arthur could’ve done better than you. You’re mostly silent. The only thing heard from you are small sniffles and pained whimpers.

Hearing a cacophony of different, yet familiar, voices all calling your name into the void of the woods, you feel even worse. You don’t want to be seen like this. Your face stained with blood and tears, dripping down the front of your shirt.

Before you can even consider heading inside on your own, you hear two sets of footsteps rapidly approaching you from your left. Quickly turning, you spot Arthur and Hosea– both seem terribly worried about your sudden disappearance, only made worse when they see the state you’ve been left in.

Arthur is the first to get to you. Gawking at you as if you’ve grown three heads, only causing you to turn away from him. Your tears continuing to shamefully roll down your cheeks. He’s the last person you want to see right now. Hosea, however, is a different story.

Hosea sighs heavily as he approaches, reaching forward and pulling you into a tight hug– just like he used to when you were younger. Resting your bloodied chin on Hosea’s shoulder, you wrap your arms around his frame tightly. Your fingers balling tightly around the back of his shirt.

“What happened to you, son? You know you ain’t s’posed to run off like that..” He chides gently, running a hand up and down your back soothingly. You mumble a meek “‘m sorry, papa” in response. Sounding more like a timid boy than a young man.

“It’s alright, boy.. You’re okay..” Hosea murmurs into your ear, letting you try and compose yourself despite the soreness of your body. A much harder task to accomplish with Arthur’s bright eyes on you. “Where’d you go? Why’d you leave?” he questions, not wanting to force you to respond.

“Th- The town.. Just nearby. I–” you pause, swallowing the uncomfortable concoction of saliva and metallic blood pooling in your mouth. “I- you just…” you’re not sure if you want to be honest or not. On one hand, Hosea could help with what’s weighing so heavily on your chest. On the other, he could ridicule you for getting into trouble over something so stupid.

“You ‘n Dutch got along with Arthur so well.. ‘n I got scared that y-you were gonna leave me for him. Wanted to prove I was strong so you wouldn’t think he’s better..” you sob, feeling it all come crashing down at the admittance of your envy. Arthur is taken aback by your statement, but Hosea seems unfazed. Only focused on making you feel better.

“It ain’t a game of favoritism, son. Dutch and I care for you boys equally. You’re real damn stupid for runnin’ off ‘n getting your ass beat, but that don’t mean Arthur’s any greater or lesser than the man you’re growing up to be, you understand?”

You nod slightly with another small sniffle, slowly pulling away from the hug. You wipe your eyes with your fingers on your clean hand, not keen on the idea of getting blood near your eyes. Hosea sighs as he inspects your face. You’re grateful he’s not upset with you, but you still feel guilty. You hadn’t even considered what a fuss you would’ve caused.

“Arthur,” Hosea starts, looking over towards the other boy, prompting him to look at Hosea with a quiet hum of acknowledgement. “Take Y/N back to my tent. Clean him up a bit, will you? I’ll let Dutch know he’s back” He lays out, leaving no room for disagreement.

Arthur copies you and nods, shuffling around you awkwardly and beginning to make his way back to camp. Tentatively, you follow behind. You’re not sure how you feel. It feels like a weight has been pulled off your shoulders, only to be replaced by a heavier weight of guilt for your jealousy.

Not a word is spoken between you two as you follow the younger boy back to Hosea’s tent. Your boots scuffing against the ground below until you slink down onto Hosea’s cot with a heavy sigh. Arthur wastes no time soaking an old washrag in alcohol and approaching you again. Carefully wiping the blood off your face.

“Sorry for..y’know- makin’ you jealous ‘n whatever. Never meant to..” He mutters quietly, focused on getting the dried blood off your skin. “It ain’t your fault.. Was just- scared, I guess..” you respond quietly, trying not to speak too much so as to not disrupt his work.

It felt uncomfortable to be getting cleaned up by the younger boy, but you can’t complain. Your leg mindlessly bouncing against the floor of Hosea’s tent. Sighing heavily from your nose as you let your sore body actually relax under Arthur’s care.

“You still up for that dominoes game?” You mumble quietly, a small smile spreading across your blood stained lips as you look up at Arthur hopefully. He stands up a bit straighter at your question before he rolls his eyes and gets back to helping you. “I thought you’d never ask.”

....................................................................................................

finished this on 2%

Hope you like it !! :3

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x male reader #dutch van der linde x male reader #hosea matthews x male reader #arthur morgan x male reader

33 notes · View notes

kylesgarrick · 3 months

Text

now writing for red dead characters!! (favourites are : charles smith, dutch, kieran and bill)

#red dead redemption 2 #male reader/gn reader only #charles smith #javier escuella #john marston #dutch van der linde #x male reader #fanfic #male reader #fanfiction

23 notes · View notes

redskull199987 · 1 year

Text

Lucky Charm

Max Verstappen x male!reader Request

Word count:1.1k

Warnings: making out, alcohol, don't drink and drive ya'll

Summary: after meeting Max for the first time, when you were still children, you finally meet him again at the one race, where he could win it all...

Requested by Hideto-san on Wattpad

Masterlist

I remembered it perfectly. The first time I met him. Max Verstappen. We were both young back then. He probably didn't even remember, but I did. Max already showed Talent back in his days of Karting. I was nothing against him, I don't remember one day where he wasn't showing brilliance. So, while Max went into Formula 1 and joined the Red Bull Racing team as a Driver, I joined the Team as a PR assistant. And I liked my job, even though I rarely got to see any of the drivers.

But today was a big day. It was the Japanese GP, Max could make it today, he could win his second title. Everyone was excited, but no one let it show. The team seemed as cool as ever. I was glad that I could be able to be at the Red Bull Garage today.

But it was still time, until the race started, so I walked around the paddock a little bit. As always, it was full of all different kinds of people, mechanics, drivers, journalists, celebrities. Pretty much every kind of person could be found here.

"Y/N?"

I turned around, as I heard my name. I smiled, as I realized who it was.

"Daniel!", I answered, while the Australian pulled me into a brief hug.

"How have you been, mate?", he asked while patting my shoulder.

"Oh you know, there are always ups and downs, but I love my job and I wouldn't change it for the world", I grinned, as we walked around the paddock together.

"Oh, I agree on that", Danny nodded.

"How's Max? He must be excited for today", He added.

"Oh yeah, but he doesn't show it, you know how he is.", I agreed.

Danny smiled at that, before pointing his finger at someone behind me.

"Speaking of the devil...", he smiled.

I turned around. And Daniel was right. There he was, none other than Max Verstappen himself. He seemed to notice that we were looking at him, as a smile rose to his features and he walked over to us.

"Hey mate", Danny smiled and gave Max a small hug.

"Hey, Danny", he replied, before looking at me.

"Nice to see you, Y/N", Max smiled.

To be honest, I was surprised that he remembered my name. After all, he had a pretty busy schedule and the Red Bull had lots of PR people.

"Pleasure", I answered.

While walking down the paddock together, the three of us started to chat away about anything and everything and as it was time for Danny and Max to get into the cars, I gave both of them a hug and wished them good luck, especially Max though. He could win today, after all.

"Thank you", Max smiled and looked at me,"Maybe you're gonna be my Lucky charm."

I was perplexed for a moment, until I realized what he just said.

"Uh, I hope so.", I replied awkwardly, but Max only smiled and nodded at me, before making his way towards his car.

What had just happened? Did he flirt with me? No, that's impossible! But, what else could it mean?

I was so perplexed, that I almost walked into Christian Horner on my way to the garage. I apologize quickly, before finding my seat and settling down quietly. Now, it was time to race. Hopefully, Max would make it...

I couldn't believe it. He won. He actually won. Max Verstappen was the World Champion of 2022. The shouting and screaming of the Red Bull team was incredible, as everyone waited for him, to get out of his car and jump into the teams' arms.

I watched in delight, as he hugged his mechanics and Christian. Everyone was laughing, crying, smiling. It was a roller-coaster of emotions.

After a few minutes, Max seemed to notice me. I smiled and waved at him, as he came over. He leaned forward and pulled me into a hug. My cheek pressed against his helmet and he hugged me wildly.

"You really are a lucky charm!", Max laughed and patted my shoulder. I felt the redness creep onto my cheeks, as I smiled at him sheepishly.

"Anytime.", I smiled. I watched, as Max eyes started to glow under his helmet.

"From now on, you're coming to every race", He smiled.

"I would love too", I chuckled.

Max turned around briefly, as he was called to weighting.

"I'll see you after the award ceremony", he smiled and hugged me again, before walking away. I smiled at him. He actually did it. He actually won. And he still seemed so humble. It was unbelievable.

A few hours later, everyone had calmed down again a little bit. People were indeed celebrating Max' win and you rarely saw anyone without a alcoholic beverage in their hand.

I was talking to Danny, who I had walked into again earlier. He congratulated me on the win for the team and somehow, we ended up in an endless conversation again.

"Y/N"

"He seems to 'run into you' pretty often today", Danny mumbled, as we heard Max' voice coming closer to us.

I grinned at his comment, the alcohol in my system made me a little bit more confident.

"Hey Max", I smiled and turned around, as the World Champion finally reached us.

"Hy", He said. Daniel immediately seemed to understand the situation, as he excused himself, so that Max and I were left alone.

"I just wanted to thank you again", Max said, while leaning closer, due to the noise around us.

"Like I said, I'm always at your service", I smiled at him.

A grin rose to Max features, as he leaned even closer. I could hear his voice right next to my ear.

"Always?", he whispered.

I looked at him. He was so close, I could smell the alcohol coming from his lips.

I only nodded, not sure if I could form a coherent sentence.

"Say Stop and I'll stop.", Max mumbled, before he started kissing my neck.

My eyes closed, as I felt him pull my closer by my wrist. His lips felt hot on my skin and it didn't take him long to find my sweat spot. A small moan left my lips, as I felt how he left a small hickey.

Max looked back up at me. His eyes seemed to sparkle with desire. It was something, I had never seen before. It was like his whole personality changed at once.

"How about we go to my hotel room?", Max asked.

"Really? You wanna leave your own party?", I chuckled.

"I wouldn't mind", he grinned.

"Me neither.", I smiled and grabbed his hand,"I'd like to be your lucky charm."

"Oh don't worry", May smiled as we walked over to his car, "You already are."

160 notes · View notes