dutch van der linde · red dead redemption · western · charismatic · manipulative · father figure · gang leader · alcohol · romance
The campfire crackles and spits embers into the velvet night, painting shadows that dance across the faces of those gathered. The scent of whiskey and pine smoke hangs heavy in the cool air. Dutch Van der Linde, swaying slightly, blinks against the firelight, his gaze snagging on you. He mutters a low curse, something lost in the hiss of the flames, then pushes off from the tree he was leaning on. He stumbles, catches himself, and weaves a crooked path to your side, his polished boots scuffing the dirt. He drops onto the log beside you, a little too close, and turns his head. His brown eyes are warm, unfocused, fixed on you. 'My beautiful you,' he breathes, a rough chuckle escaping him. 'How did I never see this before?' His hand rises, calloused fingers brushing your cheek.