#jm x reader

You know when your parents tell you to do anything-- but have a baby. As in, do drugs, break girls hearts, fail tests, kill the godamn president but don't have a baby before you can take care of it.

It's a lot of responsibility, a baby needs care, needs love, needs money above all. The human is born good but is corrupted by his environment, said Rousseau once, a child absorbs whatever it sees, mainly its parents. If the parents are clean and very organized, so will the baby be. If they are alcoholics or closely linked to its industry, so will the baby. Why, if the parents are outlaws, more likely the baby will a well.

One who knew this well was Hosea. He had kept his hands clean of Bessie for much of his life, arguing "Bringing a child into this world we live in is foul.", and so he passed on the philosophy to the younger crowd of the gang.

Specially John.

For some reason unknown to Marston himself, Mr. Matthews had always been a bit more strict on that rule with him than any other. Whenever he began flirting with a highborn lady the older man would slide in and say some very odd stuff to ride her away. If he tried to sit closer to a lady in the train suddenly Hosea would need to sit right in between them. In camp, he constantly mocked the young John and made sure none of the young girls were interested in him in the slighest.

Yet that night, the old fool wasn't there, couldn't stop John of his youngest and reckless attitude.

"Yer one pretty thing." He had found Y/N outside by the meadow the obnoxiously loud saloon.

Her cheeks had burned red, they had both called each other's attention all night. He had found her so elegant for a lady in the country side, her hair up in a careful updo that clearly took her time in the morning. She smelled like flowers (which ones, John couldn't tell, he could only name roses and lilies, and knew not their precise smell.) Her dress was so well ironed it looked impossible to be seen more neat. A person's personal hygiene and choices of style can tell you a lot about them, someone who takes such good care of themselves really values these sort of tiny details.

Whilst John was a man who noticed that sort of stuff, he wasn't one to hear his own advice, and more than once Arthur and Dutch had questioned why did girls like him.

He smelled like horse shit and gun powder, clothes he didn't remember the last time he threw at Miss Grimshaw to wash. All ruffled up and stained with things he didn't even want to name. His hair was greasy, overdue a cut and as unwashed as his clothes. Only noticeable good stuff he had on him was his rather expansive hat, metal laced and actual good animal skin.

But the thing about ugly men is that they are usually the most humble and the funniest. There's also something about dangerous men that attracts girls, it's been a thing for years. Roman girls loved the gladiators, medieval ladies loved the knights, and cowgirls loved the outlaws.

"Why, you've been eyein' me all night, sir." She replied, calling him sir even though let's be honest he couldn't have been over the age of 20.

He agreed with a tip of his hat. "'Cause you look like a muse, miss. So tidy up, so clean, are you some highborn?"

Her chuckle was a melody. "Far from it, I'm just some saloon worker. And you?"

His chest puffed up, so cocky. "I'm John Marston." He announced, waiting for some sort of reaction.

Which...she didn't give, she just smiled slightly and leaned in. "Well, glad to meet you, John Marston. I'm Y/N."

"Ya better remember my name." He said it like a secret, which gauged her an amused look.

"Oh really? Why is that?"

"'Cause it's the name you'll be moanin' tonight." Basic pick up line he had gotten from some sort of mean cowboy earlier.

Couldn't have ended any other way, when the sun rose they were trapped in each other. His scrawny form had her pressed against his bare chest, that updo ruined when he so passionately tore it earlier. Her dress forgotten somewhere on the dusty ground. It was a shot in the dark really, at that time unprotected sex could end up in 3 distinct ways:

-An STD -Ruining the lady's reputation -Pregnancy

If lucky enough, it could stay hidden under the sheets forever more. By morning, John didn't think about anything really. Bought her breakfast, kissed her forehead, and rode out to meet up with the boys at camp. Just smirking when Dutch asked "Where was you all night, boy?"

Like the good idiot he had always been, he didn't go back to the saloon much afterwards, and when he did he just winked at Y/N, shared a quiet chuckle, and a month later he was gone. Had to ride out west with the gang to escape the law further, like they do every couple of weeks, can't really stay in one place.

At the time though they went around in circles mostly, not daring to ride south. So around 8 months later, he rode back into that same tiny village, sort of place with just enough buildings to survive: A bank, two markets, a stable, a mail, etc.

Nobody had known about the saloon story, gods the gang would murder him, Hosea would speech so long about the responsibilities a young man should have, about honor, about safety, stuff John was never in the mood to hear. But his heart was called to the building, to her most specifically. He had traveled from Washington to New Mexico and not found a perfection like her.

Striding up trough the doors, he leaned his feet up in a table and waited for this old lady to walk up to him.

"What you want, boy?" She asked, she was probably older than Grimshaw.

"Where's Y/N? She used to work here last time I was around." He tried to compose himself a little, try not to look the rake too much.

Her eyebrows did this nasty turn and she looked like the devil. "So you're the bastard..."

"Pardon me?" The shock he had was so big he could barely talk for a moment.

"Ya want to see yer darlin' Y/N?" She sounded like she was mocking her. After he nodded, a bit more rouge now, she waved her hand aggressively for him to follow her.

She walked up to the back rooms where the staff slept most days, they stopped in front of the same room John remembered being 8 months before. Upon knocking, that familiar voice he knew replied "Yeah, come in?"

Inside, there she was, and there's no pretty description this time just the total obvious that shocked him: The big round belly she was supporting, clearly pregnant. They were both quite surprised by seeing each other, he exhaled.

"Oh...oh my lord." So many shit was going trough his mind, and the first one was just : That can't be mine!

Her soft eyes fell on him and didn't even widen, he thought she'd be angry or super pissed, but the exhaustion of bearing a child must have caught to her because she just offered him a small polite smile. "Oh.. hi John."

"I'll leave you two, and Y/N." That older woman called out. "Make him pay."

There was that awkard moment of silence where they couldn't look at each other, before John spoke up first.

"Uhm...y-you're pregnant?" Stupid question, gosd he regreted it right away.

"As you can see." She joked, and he actually chuckled.

"Is.." He hesitated, didn't want to be an ass but his ego was speaking loud. "Is it mine?"

She looked sad, of course she did, no pregnant girl wanted to hear from her baby daddy that he was questioning her. Made her sound like a common whore. She sighed deeply, lowered herself into her hay bed with a groan of someone who could barely move with that huge melon of a stomach in the way.

"I guess" She replied quite tiredly "I only ever slept with ya, was a moment of weakness of mine, risked it all out of curiosity, got myself in trouble."

His cheeks burned deep, the reality began setting. She didn't seem the type to lie about this stuff, and he knew he was the type to be reckless.

"I.. I'm sorry." Was all he could say at first, then completed "What do you want from me? You know, Imma take responsibility."

"I don't know what I want from you, honestly." She admitted "I know who you are, you ain't the type to lay low now, marry me and then spend your days being a ranch boy." She joked slightly, "I ain't ruined, just so you know, I ain't no lady. I'm a saloon girl, sure it hurt my job a bit but-- I'm not the first girl to get pregnant by a traveller."

She looked down then, at her feet or at her belly he couldn't really tell before continuing. "I guess I want money, not a lot, just enough. And..." She trailed off.

John nodded quickly, not even letting her finish, he stuffed his hand on his pocket and took out any dollars he had, shoving it further into her hands. "Here, uhm... I don't know how much is it, but I'm sure it' somethin' over 10 dollars."

She held his hands for a moment with a tight smile. "Thanks John, it's very kind of you."

"Kind? Its the minimum, that'll buy you a crib... I think." He rubbed his nape nervously.

Gently, she made him sit next to her in the bed. He fell back hard and avoided eye contact, his mind not ready to face that baby inside of her growing everyday was hers.

"How much time you stayin' around?"

He bit his lip, he never knew that. "Couple of weeks most likely. Less if we do somethin' crazy or the Pinkertons figure it out quick."

"Cause I guess I'd like to have you near when the baby comes."

The admission felt intimate, even more than when he had himself inside of her months ago. Must be terrifying, he thought to himself, being near labour, so much danger lied ahead. Infections, blood, stillborn, anything could happen. And besides money to sustain herself, all she wanted was his presence near when the time came. Hell, he could at least offer her that.

"I'll be here." He insisted, taking her hand in both of his. "I promise."

*** "Are you insane?!" Of course Hosea would have this sort of reaction. "You realise how mediocre this is? John? Are you listening to me, boy?!"

"Yes, yes I am." John replied, everyone was staring at him hard, damn.

"You don't look like you are, because you never listen to me!" He hissed so hard the old fella actually began coughing, he had never seen Hosea so upset.

"I don't understand, sure it's bad, but it ain't put the gang in danger." He argued, which just seemed to make the older figure more pissed off.

"This ain't about us, Marston, ain't about you! Is that all that goes trough your head? Do you not think about others? You put a baby in that poor girl's belly you end her life! She ain't never gonna find a husband, she could die giving birth. Do you ever use your damn brain to think?!"

Silence followed, no one even knew what to say, and Hosea needed time to breathe before following in a quieter tone.

"Did you offer her money, at the very least?"

"All I had in my pocket." John said in pride, as if that would make everyone back off from him.

"That ain't enough, you bastard! Whatever you had was way too little, couldn't pay for a damn nursemaid." He argued, looking around the group and announcing "As a punishment for what Marston did, and so you all learn that the gang pays for what one does, everyone will offer at least 5 dollars to the girl." Everyone groaned loudly. "Well, that's what happens folk, blame yer good friend, John."

Hosea walked off rubbing both his eyeballs with the palm of his hand, whispering something bout John being a half wit, followed by Dutch trying to calm him down.

John sat sulking in the shadow, everyone that passed by gave him an ugly look that told him they were super annoyed and dissapointed. When Arthur strode up to him, he rolled his eyes.

"Whatever life lesson you're comin' to give me, I heard it all, alright?"

Arthur scowled "Then you're gonna hear another one, because it doesn't look like you ever learn." He found his way besides John heavily and scratched his cheek "Listen, Hosea was real mad at you earlier so I'm pretty sure you didn't listen to him. We never do when we want to justify ourselves, so I came here to talk to you like a man so maybe you'd give me an ear."

John pouted further, for a 19yo boy he looked 12 all of a sudden. "I know I did her wrong, Arthur, it's not like I can go back in time and undo what I did. I gave her money, we're giving her more, and...she wanted other stuff that Imma make sure she gets, so why's everyone still mad?"

"When a dog poops in your bed, Johnny, is the problem done when you clean it up or do you scream at the dog to make sure he never does it again?"

The metaphor didn't quite click because he just answered "I scream at it to not do it again."

"Yeah, that's what Hosea was doing. If we let you go quietly, you'll do it again because you think it's alright to do it." Arthur explained, leaning further into the shade. "Listen, we don't want you out, you're my brother today and until the day I die, but you got a duty to the girl as well now."

"So what do I do?" Asking it to Arthur felt the most logical course of action, if someone could tell him-- it was him.

"You're gonna stay with her, comfort her like she's the muse of your entire life, stay by her side. We'll ride out when we're sure her and the baby are safe, and then every week-- every godamn week, you're gonna send her a letter with money. Only exceptions is if you're dead." He posed it like a law, he sounded quite stern about it.

John nodded stiffly, seemed fair. "I guess... I'm afraid." He admitted, afraid of the future, of killing that poor beautiful girl, of ruining both their lives because he wanted her close.

"You ain't gotta be." Arthur replied. "Cause we'll be here for you, always."

***

Every single day, like clock work, there was John.

At first he was super shy, tip toeing his way around her and her big belly, but with time he found himself drawn closer to her. They'd lay down at the end of the evening, when the sun dipped low and looked orange, and giggle at the names they were thinking of.

"How about...Archibald." He offered one day, a clear jest.

She giggled-- it was adorable, because when she did her belly would kinda jiggle and it looked funny. "Where the hell did you hear that one?"

"You never like any name I offer these days!"

"You've offered so far: Archibald, Dante, Godfrey, Gaylord, Dutch and-- what was it with X?"

"Xavier." He remined her, impressed by her memory.

"Yeup, Xavier. What sort of names are those? Besides, might be a girl." She reminded him, it made his eyes lower a little... a girl, he never quite pictured himself as a girl dad.

"A girl.. let me think...Gertrude?"

Once again, she laughed at his ridiculous proposals, when she calmed down though she did look a bit more serious. "Let's real think now, John, I don't want to birth a kid and have no name for 'em."

He passed his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his chest then. "A girl... I don't know many girl names. Do you?"

"I like... Juliet, from that story, Romeo and Juliet." She mentioned, pointing at a book far in her table.

"What's it about?" He asked, ever so...well, illiterate, Hosea was still trying to make him read small books.

She smiled a bit, he had found she was a big book girl "It's about these two lovers, they are from families who hate one another, so they decide to run away together. But to do that, Juliet pretends to be dead so no one will follow them, but Romeo thinks she really did pass away and kills himself. When she finds out, she drinks poison to follow him."

"What the fuck is that story?" John hollered "You wanna name our daughter after a maniac who kills herself over love?"

"It's romantic!" She argued, her hand passing trough her belly "It's beautiful, besides you got any better idea?"

"Any idea is better than that! I don't know... Hattie? I like Hattie! Or Johanna, sounds like John!"

"But they don't mean anything, ain't got a story about it. But...hey, John isn't a bad idea for a boy. Name him after you." She proposed, looking down as if seeing trough the skin and into the baby.

However the idea was...unverving for him. He wasn't a good man, didn't want to pass his bad ways into a child. Like Hobbes, he belived humans are inherently bad or selfish, and he was born it. He could imagine that toddler boy growing up being confused with his outlaw daddy, whilst John Jr might just be a nice kiddo who wants a job.

He shook his head "Not John, sounds wrong, and it's stupid."

"But something closer to it, has the meaning... could be Jack."

That sounded better, Jack Marston or Juliette Marton, he could hear it, picture it. He knelt up in bed with a sigh "That rings nicely, Jack..." He leaned down to press a kiss to her belly button, or close to it, he looked up at her then-- at the way she looked healthy, which was more than he could ask for at the moment. "I'll be here, darling, to welcome Jack...or Juliette."

And albeit doubt crept at the corner of her eyes, she responded "I know you will."

*** It had been way too late at night when someone shook him awake. "John! John, wake up you bastard!"

"Wha--What is it, Hosea?" He mumbled, sitting up lazily. What the hell could he want at this hour?

The older man pulled him up with surprising strength, everyday he could be surprised on how healthy and damn intimidating Hosea still was. "Girl from the saloon came down here, said your darling's gone into labour. So we're gonna get our ass in our horses and ride there."

There's a surge of panic that thuds his chest right then, because this is the moment he had been ignoring in the midst of bliss. They had just been laughing, joking, once or twice she'd have trouble with the weight or having to use the chamberpot a lot, but whatever peaceful life they had lived the past month had completely made him forget that it'll end today one way or another.

Hosea slapped his back then, seeing John was frozen with the thoughts that paralyzed him. "You walk boy!"

"Yessir!" He stuttered, finding his footing and rushing over to his horse, as did the older man. "You're coming?"

"Course I am, for all you know you'd let that baby choke on its own umbilical chord. You need a man who knows what to do." Wow insulting much, Hosea really had been pissed off.

With a quick 'heya!' both were off into the dark, it was mad hard to ride without nearly any visibility and he thought he'd trip many times, but somehow someway they found their way to the front of the lit off saloon. Even from outside, John could hear the low groans coming from his darling, it made his stomach churn, but his feet didn't freeze now-- he strode up and opened the door quietly, Hosea following him.

Now, he had never seen a woman give birth, so his reaction might have been a bit over the top. She was standing and pacing the room slowly, three women surrounded her-- the older saloon staff whom he had met earlier, the nursewife he guessed, and some other adult woman who looked about Hosea' age. His darling was sweating down her nightgown and soaking it, tears ran down her eyes as fear consumed her-- pain did that to you, made you question everything. What you were, is and what you will be. There were buckets of warm water near, sponges, some herbs, not much else. Medieval people had more medicine than this.

He was stunned into silence, he wanted to turn around and hide, puke maybe since the smell didn't really help; it was metallic from blood and very humid. But when her eyes caught his, her gaze turned from cloudy to slightly more lucid.

"John" She croaked, and damn did that break him.

He walked over to him, barefoot he only noticed now, and took her arm "Yeah..it's me, gods.. you look terrible."

"Why thank you, I feel horrible." She ironized it, but couldn't keep the joke up when her whole body tensed. She whimpered sadly and turned to look at the nurse maid "I-I really want to push, I really do."

The crone lady flapped her hand at him "Then he has to go. This ain't no place for a man."

John frowned, he had come all this way just for this, to help her, to be by her side. "Ain't no way, I--"

"I-It's okay, John...it'll be quick, I hope.." She replied, he couldn't understand her. Why wouldn't he want him there? Shame? Embarassment? Whatever reasoning she had, it was one who came from a place of pain, but if it made her feel safer-- hell, that was the comfort he could offer her.

He held her close for a moment, kissed her lips, "And whatever you need, you call for me, I'm just outside."

The older woman shooed him out with a firm wave of her hand, and John let himself be guided away, heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Hosea clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder and steered him down the narrow wooden stairs toward the main room of the saloon.

Downstairs, the place was mostly empty at this ungodly hour, the lanterns burned low. John dropped into a chair at the nearest table, face hidden in his hands. Hosea sat across from him, arms crossed, looking far too calm for the situation.

Minutes dragged and it was damn insufferable. He kept rubbing his palms on his thighs, trying to wipe away the sweat that wouldn’t stop coming.

Hosea finally broke the silence, voice low and rough. “Breathe slow, boy. You sound like a pipe."

“I can't!” John hissed, his heart was loud and it felt like he was going mad “What if somethin’ goes wrong? What if she-- bleeds out or somethin'?”

“She’s young. Healthy. Women been doin’ this since the dawn of time,” Hosea cut in, though his tone wasn’t as dismissive as usual. He leaned back, taking that fatherly tone “There's nothin’ you can do up there but get in the way. So relax."

John nodded numbly, but his leg bounced under the table anyway. He thought about the way her hand had felt in his earlier that evening—warm, a little clammy from the strain. He thought about the ridiculous names they’d laughed over, about the way her belly moved when the baby kicked. Jack or Juliette-- hell at this point the baby could be a damn fish and he'd just be happy to see it born.

Upstairs, the sounds grew sharper. Her voice rose: short, pained cries, so pitiful and hurtful. Every once in a while she'd say actual things. "I can't do this!" or a quick "Help!", and he wanted to rush up there and hold her close and not let anyone hurt her no more-- but then again Hosea had a point, so stupid he was he'd probably do more harm than good.

Time blurred. The groans turned into labored breathing, then desperate whimpers. He could hear the women’s voices grow urgent, instructing, encouraging. One of them was counting. Another was telling her to push. John’s stomach churned so badly he thought he might actually be sick right there on the saloon floor.

Then, after what felt like an eternity of agony echoing from above, there was a final, raw cry from her—long and breaking—and right after it, the unmistakable sound of a newborn’s wail.

It was loud, so amazingly loud. A baby born healthy as a calf. John's eyes rose to meet Hosea's, he was probably looking like a ghost because the older man snorted.

"Someone's up there waitin' to meet ya, boy."

His sould carried him first than his feet, and in less than a second he found himself back in that small bedroom. The smell was blood hit him hard, and how wet the air felt. But his quick disgust was cut when the nursemaid approached him with a bundle in her arms.

"It's a boy, Mr Marston."

He held that newborn like it was 40 bars of gold. He was bloodied, weird shaped and so ever loud and fitful, but in that moment he was the center of his universe. The reason all this outlaw life should stop, even if for that small fraction of time. Jack was nothing but a healthy kid, he was kicking and screaming, he was red and cute (or, well, John thought he was, newborns aren't often very adorable.)

"Heyo kiddo." He whispered, a fat tear threatening to spill from his eyes.

His moment was cut when Y/Ns weak voice reached his ear.

"Can I see him?"

He found that infuriating, they hadn't yet given her their son to see and hold? She had just birthed that huge child for hours, sun was nearly rising. He rushed to kneel besides her and place the bundle of joy in her chest, however she could hold him.

"See?" He chuckled, voice choked up with tears. "He's beautiful, and everything went good."

To which she lolled her head back into his arms. "He is...he's marvelous, our Jack."

And albeit the moment was probably the best moment he lived since he joined the gang, and albeit he knew children could die in days, and albeit he saw how much recovery his darling needed. His duty with them was temporarily over.

And albeit it was against his will, he rode out the town at dawn with the others. Leaving behind the biggest question of all: Could his life be different one day?

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#note; Look at me writting about RDR2. If this flops Im gonna cry It's so fun to write it I love it, specially about my supreme goat John. MY REQUESTS ARE OPENNN request me more RDR2 and RDR1 stuffffff