#dutch x colm

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

hello friend. i am coming to ask for more gangshipping(dutchxcolm) please.... 🥩

They’re healthy for sure.

[amrass]

Guess what super niche longfic might be resurrected from the dead someday soon

I'll give you a hint:

For those unfamiliar with it, Salt is my Colm/Micah sugar daddy AU fic; dark, explicit and self-indulgent, 3/6 arcs complete. It's not for everyone, but might be for you if the tags give you a Cheshire grin.

In the 4th and upcoming arc, there will be Annabelle/Dutch, Dutch/Colm, Dutch/Micah and Owen(Colm's brother)/Micah, because creating a pentagram of interpersonal drama with a touch of murder was the way to get back into this fic after a six month hiatus. Also sexy sugar mama Annabelle who laughs like this is fun to write.

Have a smutty excerpt from part 21 after the cut ...

Colm liked having a pliant boy on his lap. His mouth lingered near Micah's neck and his rising heartbeat. He felt a childish desire to bite into his jugular and tear and chew his way down to his heart, as though Dutch's aforementioned concept of love would become less foreign if he'd held Micah's heart between his teeth.

His jaw snapped in the air when Dutch stood up from the chair.

"May I see?" Dutch asked, bending his neck like when he'd adressed Annabelle, but walking closer when Colm didn't bite.

Feeling the effects of the strong beer in how slowly he thought, Colm's mind dripped from his own empty mouth and down along his arms, which had been spreading open Micah's shirt as well as his legs, forcing exposure upon a weaker as a subconscious way of soothing himself. Dutch's gaze was locked on the stiff nubs of Micah's nipples. The gold piercing glinted in one of them, and the silver one, in the other. They were further complimented by the blush spreading over Micah's chest and up his neck. He was a rough little thing, full of scars, but he had these little places of grace – the fat, the redness, the wobbling bottom lip – that made him oddly pretty.

"Fascinating. Do they hurt?"

"No- Ow!"

Micah choked on air as Colm twisted the silver piercing.

Dutch sat down on the table in front of them, still bent forward to make sure his head was a fraction lower than Colm's. It was cute, but also very different from the time when Colm had made Dutch kneel on the floor in front of him, and crawl forward with an open mouth, ready to be fed and watered. But now his lips were closed-lipped, and his new liaison and clothes had given him more confidence; in terms of rank, he was above Micah by being Annabelle's lover.

"They must be sensitive. May I ...?"

"Go ahead. I think he likes you." Colm took hold of Micah's cheeks, pressing them together like a fish's mouth, "Don't you, kid?"

Micah made a wet noise, a mix of anger and helpless agreement.

"Well. I like you too," Dutch said in a lighter tone to Micah, reaching out to run his index and middle finger on the sides of the golden piercing. "Your shade of blonde is rather pretty. Like hers, but paler."

Micah shuddered, one nipple being caressed, and one, poked and prodded. Colm increased the pressure, feeling Micah's back go taunt against him, and when he let go, Micah sank down and breathed hard. Colm used his distraction to unbutton his pants and hold them open. Predictably, he was hard, and grew harder as Dutch took it as an invitation to rub both of his nipples with adept thumbs while Colm felt him twitch underneath his palms, pressing down, down, down.

"Fuck!" Micah cried out.

"Your brother is trying to buy out Annabelle," Dutch said suddenly but quietly, raising his eyes to Colm's before lowering them again.

"Yes, I know," Colm lied, hiding his surprise.

[abeliophyllum]

Therapist : Younger boy Colm Isn't Real, It Can't Hurt You (+Dutch doll)

Younger boy Colm and Dutch doll :

-

싸가지없는 잼민콜름 + 더치인형.

[agyraty]

Ohh can you do Javier x reader angst?? Where in the last fight where the reader chose Arthurs side instead of his and they like reunite somewhere in the future where the reader has a kid now but is taken a back when she meets Javier again because they both still really much love each other but never really said anything just one finale goodbye

I love this!! I’m definitely thinking on adding on to this and making a part two because I love the concept.

(Btw I need more requests 😔 I have no ideas on what to write at the moment and need help)

—

Old goodbyes, New beginnings

Wc: 1.6k

—

You never thought that you would see the day the Van Der Linde gang had its fallout. But here you are, pistol in hand, Arthur and a wounded John standing by your side. Dutch, Micah and his friends stood just a few feet away from you, their guns pointed and ready to fire. But your eyes were on Javier.. it hurt seeing him in the opposing side, although you should have known this would happen by how he’s been acting.

You joined the when you were just 19 back in 1994, and you were there when Javier first joined in 1995. you two were practically inseparable from the moment you met. He was a very skilled and charming man, not to mention he was extremely handsome. And over the 4 years of knowing him, you fell in love. And so did he.

A relationship blossomed between the two of you two years ago from now, and at first, it was amazing. He was such a loving man, and he cared deeply for you. Just as you did for him. Each time he’d go on a mission, or vise versa, you’d both be thinking about each other the whole time, and how much you missed one another. He’d even put his life on the line if it meant you were safe. He loved you, and you loved him.

But recently, as everything began to fall apart, Dutch, the gang, everyone began to turn in each other and the pinkertons were close to capturing you all, you had noticed him becoming.. distant, easily irritated. At first you thought maybe he was just stressed or worried about what would happen, but now you are begging to think that he’s choosing Dutch. That he’d rather be on his side than be with you since you disagreed either Dutch. Overall he had completely changed from the man you once knew..

Your glossy eyes scanned his figure as he stood across from you, his pistol pointed upwards at the air, unsure of what to do.

Your lip quivered slightly as you spoke. “C’mon Javier.. don’t be dumb. Please, Just listen to me.” You pleaded, not even bothering to hide the desperation in your voice. You loved him for Christs sake, even if he had changed, you couldn’t just stand around and watch him make a mistake.

His deep brown eyes stared at you, lips parting, not exactly sure on what to say. You could see he was trying to figure it out, to make a decision.

You tuned out Micah and Arthur’s back and forth banter, all your focus directed to the man you loved, standing a few feet in front of you. You could feel your heart splitting. Why was it so hard for him to make a decision? surely he hadn’t lost his way completely..

Surely he still loved you..

He shook his head, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he clenched his teeth. “No.. no you’re the one being stupid.” He gestured at you with his gun that now aimed at you. “Dutch fed us, clothed us, gave us a place to stay and you’re turning on him?”

Your shaky hands tightened around your gun, eyes narrowing. “No Javier.. he betrayed me, betrayed us, when he started listening to that rat.” You gestured to the blonde standing beside Javier.

“Please.. just come with me, don’t do this.” You pleaded desperately, eyes glossy with tears, the pain you felt growing as you saw him look at you with a cold look in his eye. There was no love in his expression. He was betraying you just as Dutch had.. why?

“Javi..”

He looked away as soon as you spoke his name which you called him often. He used to love it when you did.

“Don’t,” he started, but before he could speak another word, a large group came rushing into camp, interrupting the stand off. It was none other than the Pinkertons, lawmen who had been chasing after the gang for months. They found you.

“Damnit, Go!” You, Arthur, and John went one way, while the others went the opposite. You looked behind you, eyes catching Javier’s figure, who was behind the others, firing some shots at the men on their horses.

You didn’t know at the time that it would be the last time you saw Javier, for many years.

—

“Norman, stop Messing around, you’re gonna bump into someone.” You sighed, attention loosely on the young boy that ran around the streets of black water. You shook your head as he continued to chase around the golden dog that yelled and panted, it’s tail wagging vigorously behind him.

“Alright, anything else I could get you, Ma’am?” Asks the store clerk as he steps over to you, placing the peach you had asked for in your hand carefully. You shook your head, a small polite smile gracing your features. “No, this’ll be all.”

You dug into the pocket of your weathered pants, pulling out a few cents and handing it to the man. You turned your attention to your horse, stepping carefully over and dropping the plump peach into the saddle bag. A huff escaped your parted lips, you just wanted to go home and rest. These past few days had been even more eventful then normal, You were exhausted.

Cecil barked, his paws pattering against the dusty stone floor as Norman chased behind him, giggling loudly. But suddenly, you heard the boy let out a grunt, and a loud thud, along with a soft curse, a voice that sounded so familiar.

You quickly turned away from the horse, eyes searching for your son, who was now sitting in the floor covered in dust, along with a man in front of him who you didn’t quite get a good look at. Hurrying over, you reached down, grabbing Norman just below the arms, helping him up to his feet.

“I am so sorry, I told him to watch out—“ you stood up, eyes turning to the man, and paused, breath hitching in your throat upon seeing who stood before you.

“Y/n..?” He uttered quietly, in clear disbelief, just as you were.

You studied his face, noticing the smile lines and soft crows feet he had beside his eyes, along with how his frame filled out more. You couldn’t be seeing things, could you? At first you doubted it was him until you called his name. “Javier?”

If it was him, He sure didn’t age much.

Javier’s wide eyes traced the soft features of your face, the bags beneath your eyes, and the hint of smile lines that began to form. He noticed your hair had grown longer, and grew slightly lighter from days in the sun. Although it’s been 12 years, you were still just as beautiful in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You stood up straighter, not seeming to be able to take your eyes off of him. You could feel your heart thudding against your chest, as swirl of emotions happening within you. You missed him, god you missed him so much. Seeing him here.. it brings back old feelings you tried so hard to push down. But you’re still angry, angry at the fact he chose Dutch over you all those Years before.

“I’m looking for a place to stay.. figured I’d look here. I always liked Black water.” His voice still carried the same thick accent, not wavering a bit.

You nodded and hummed a sound of understanding, looking down at the stone road. There was so much you wanted to say, but you couldn’t find the right words. You wanted to jump into his arms, but you also wanted to scream, tell him how badly he hurt you.

“So uh.. is this your boy?” He asked, eyes casting down to Norman, who stood a bit behind you, patting your golden retriever.

“Yeah.. this is Norman, I had him 5 years back.” You glanced behind you, before meeting Javier’s eyes once again. You felt your heart jump, just as it did all those years back.

“Oh, his father must be a lucky man, Having you at home,” He said softly, a hint of something in his voice you couldn’t quiet pin. “And knowing he has such a handsome son.”

You shook your head, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “No uh.. his father isn’t here anymore. He left when he was born.” Back then, you had met a guy named victor. He was very handsome, and he was good for you. And you tried to love him like you did with Javier and push your memories behind, but you couldn’t. And then he got you pregnant.

And once he did, he switched completely from a charming man, to a rude asshole. And he left after you gave birth, leaving you alone to take care and sustain for your child, and let’s just say it has not been easy.

“Oh,” Javier didn’t exactly know what to say, a bit shocked at your words. “I uh, I’m sorry.” His dark eyes traced your face, watching as you shook your head.

“No, it’s okay.” You pursed your lips together, taking in a deep breath. “So.. how have you been?”

The Spaniard scratched his chin, shrugging a bit. “I’ve been doing okay. I went to Mexico after what had happened. Let’s just say I got into some trouble. Which is why I’m here. Lookin’ for a new start.”

You nodded and listened to his words intently, humming. “This is a Great place. Maybe I could help you, Y’know, find a place.” A small smile graced you features as your gentle eyes met his once more.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” His lips curved into a smile just as yours did. For a moment you two stood there, looking at each other, your cheeks burning with a soft blush, stomach doing flips. You missed him so much over these past years, you don’t even care how angry you were, you’re just glad to see him again.

“Why don’t you come over? I’m making Peach Cobbler.” The words just fell from your mouth, but you didn’t care. All the exhaustion you felt before disappeared, the only thing fueling you was the hope that he would say yes so you could spend more time with him. Get to know what he’s done in 12 years. And maybe even become friends or, hopefully something more with time.

He nodded, smile growing. “I’d love too.”

—

[bourbonificould]

The Walking Dead Game Characters as the Van der Linde Gang

+ Antagonists; with @debtnramen & @juno-box

shit ton of tags

[moonlightkitties]

Dutch Van Der Linde x O'Driscoll! Reader

This is my first RDR 2 post so please forgive me if some details are weird/wrong. I had an itch to write a Dutch x Reader and I scratched it. This will be a multiple part series so expect part two soon.

TW: Physical Assault

You're Colm O'Driscoll's nineteen year old daughter. You were captured by Arthur and was now tide up to a tree getting ready for Dutch to interrogate you.

I glare at the man that lassoed me from my horse and brought me to this camp. I knew better than to ride out far from the O'Driscoll camp but it was the middle of the night and stormy, I swore no one would have seen me.

Well, I was wrong. So entirely wrong.

I was captured by a Van Der Linde, my father warned me how awful they could be so I was horrified at what they might do.

The man, who had a scruffy grown out light brown beard and hair, chuckled at me glaring up at him.

"You got some balls for an O'Driscoll" he says, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look up at him. His eyes glazed across my face, like he was studying me. He didn't let go until a man yelled at him to.

"Arthur! Let her go and let me have a look at her" the man, who I very much recognized as Dutch Van Der Linde, my father's enemy, the very person who he hopes to kill someday. Dutch looked down at me, I couldn't help but look away from his gaze.

He was extremely handsome. His black hair was covered by the hat he usually wore and his brown eyes glared daggers into my soul.

"Tell me, O'Driscoll, what were you doing out this late at night. Doesn't your daddy keep you locked up?" he asked, his spat out O'Driscoll like it was some food he ate that went bad.

"That's not really your business is it Van Der Linde" I spat back. He let out a howl of laughter "Considering you were on my territory, yes it is." I let out a huff of annoyance "I was just going for a ride" I told him "Where is my horse anyways?" I ask "You better not have hurt her." Dutch laugh "You should be worried about what we're going to do to you rather than your horse."

"When my dad finds out I'm gone he's going to kill you!" I threaten. Dutch let out a whistle, like he wasn't scared, "I'd like to see him try" he said, grabbing my chin and studying my face.

"It's disgusting how much you look like your father" he spat.

It was the truth, I looked a lot like Colm O'Driscoll.

I forced my head away from his hand and he wiped it on his shirt like I infected it or something.

"Now, I wanted to ask you a few questions" He said "Where is your people staying?" he asked. I stayed quiet, he let out a sigh of annoyance "Not talking, huh?" he asked and raised his hand and struck it across my face. I let out a shriek of pain, my face was burning, it would have definitely left a mark in the morning. Dutch smirked and grabbed my chin "You going to speak?" he asked and I shook my head "Never" I spat.

My father and his gang were vile but I wasn't a Judas.

Dutch struck my face again and I let out a gasp. Three, four, five, ten strikes across my face and I was a sobbing mess. It was embarrassing seeing the people in the camp watch me get smacked around. But Dutch didn't have a care in the world. He liked to see me cry.

"You ready to talk?" he asked and I nodded "Yes" I sobbed.

"Th-there a few miles from here" I told him "Where?" he asked, rubbing my burning cheek with his thumb.

"I few miles from the mountains. Were hiding in an run down train station." I said.

Dutch smiled "Now, was that so hard Darlin?" he asked and I didn't respond.

[keppa-nero]

HEY PEOPLE ❗❗❗

I don't know if currently I have many questions in my askbox for requests, BUT I'VE GOT SOME IDEAS I'LL DO SOMETIME NOW

All RDR2 :]

-Hate Headcanon I'll do for Colm O'Driscoll x Male Reader .

-Some Drunk! Sean/Arthur/Dutch/Bill in Valentine, probably a drunk fight XD.

-Angsty things for Bill/Kieran/Arthur

All characters One-Shots about some general idea:

I wanna do something like, their reaction to a really reserved Reader swearing or snapping at someone, probably Micah 🐁.

A gentle-manish Reader trying to heat up the others at Colter

How all characters would approach you for a dance/flirting while drunk.

AND MORE❗MY ASKBOX IS COMPLETELY

OPEN FOR REQUESTS.

[josephquinnswhore]

•dead men don’t kiss•

chapter two ; a familiar face.

summary: Dutch had received some viable intel—sending you and Hosea to check it out. You get more than what you bargained for with a familiar face.

word count: 2.3k

content warning: mentions of bessie being dead, violence, allusion to death, blood, mentions and use of guns, hogtying, murder.

As unusual as it was to ready yourself under a makeshift tent in the middle of a camp surrounded by strangers, by the grace of a miracle you’d managed to encapsulate yourself in a grace of beauty. Hiding all of the sorrow, bitterness and grief behind a small tube of cherry red lipstick and a small tin of hair pomade.

“Mrs Simmons, won’t you join us?” Dutch calls out to you, carrying out Arthur’s prediction of the man’s intentions. In which he gestures to a small wooden table a few feet away. There are no chairs to sit, just a few lacklustre wooden crates in the patchy grass. Supposed they could only make do with what they had.

As you sit, you’re joined by Arthur, and an older man who coughs into his sleeve before taking a seat.

The predicament continues of the evening prior, recalling someone who was coughing violently, the sound of an agonised groan filled the quiet evening atmosphere while everyone else slept. It makes you ponder whether the older man is ill. Despite that, and how the constant wheezing had created an irate response from you, there is a kindness that radiates from him, the softness of his gaze and a weary smile.

“Madam, I am most pleased to meet you, my name is Hosea Matthews.” He holds his hand out for you to shake, to which you oblige with a firm grip. “Dutch has told me little about you, although my mind is curious to know more. Pardon me for my lack of manner, what is your name again?”

“Mrs Simmons.” The reply is haste, although shielding the unusually softening feeling that’s bubbling inside of your chest.

“Mrs Simmons, that’s right. A pleasure at last.”

In the following moments of introduction ending, Dutch unfolds a large map with a few calculated movements.

There is plenty to observe, circled locations marked with O’Driscoll in neat cursive. The number of men spotted at these makeshift camps are also noted.

“The O’Driscoll boys have been sighted in half a dozen surrounding ares of Valentine. All leading—here.” A thick finger thumps onto the map, drawing your hard gaze onto the prominent, thick lead circle on the map.

“Word is they congregate here, in a small house secluded in the Cumberland Forest. Now, it is near the old Fort Wallace prison which was destroyed by his men. This needs to be taken into consideration, should any of us approach the area.”

“Where did this intel come from?” The doubtful respite from your lips is expected, it was apart of Dutch’s plan after all. If the ever doubting fierce cowgirl could trust him, surely his blindly following friends would connusume that trust too, since they had been nothing but doubtful and faithless after Blackwater.

The intel was new, and it was an area you’d never thought to look because the Fort Wallace prison was too hot. Too protected. “North east from Valentine. How many men will he have with him in this location?” The rapport is consistent with men you interacted with in the area, perhaps you could take this on alone.

Dutch intervened the silent thought, caught through your expression. “No one does this on their own, including you. It’s quite clear to me, miss, that you’re a strong and intelligent woman. Make no mistake here; the area will be guarded and it’s possible they’ve taken weapons from the lawmen they killed.”

An argumentative comment dies in your throat bitterly as you swallow it down. “Then how exactly are we supposed to get to Colm? If he’s even in the area.”

“Since you’re so passionate about this, Mrs Simmons, I’ll have you take this opportunity to ride to the location. See if you can get a sense of the place and report back to camp. Do not engage. Hosea will escort you, he knows that area well.” Dutch’s voice is a stern warning you put in mind probably for the best. There could be dozens of heavily armed O’Driscoll boys.

Packing up the map, Dutch stands, crossing his hands over his chest. “One of our.. associates overheard the conversation of two of Colm’s boys in the Valentine saloon. Hosea is no killer, but I am sure you will appreciate the theatrics.”

Your blood may spill, but you will not fall before Colm O’Driscoll.

A side eye is send toward Hosea, a thought that perhaps could’ve stayed inside of your head is suddenly spilling from your loose lipped mouth. “Are you in well enough health make this trip, Mr Matthews?”

Hosea is not offended by your brusque comment, in fact it draws a laugh from his chest, one that he hadn’t experienced in the many years since his sweet Bessie had been laid in the dirt. All that’s left of her is the photograph by Hosea’s bedroll and the wedding band on his finger. The ever consuming sensation was something he found himself transfixed on.

The attitude from a sharp lipped woman who seemed daring to put any man in his place, valiant and truthful was something that impressed him.

“I often find myself asking the same question, young lady. Let me assure you that I’ll be fine.”

In hindsight he seemed well enough, as you observe the way he walks and mounds his steed. Perhaps he would keep his word and not fall off of his mount halfway through the trail.

“Whatever you say,” with a strained response from mounting your large Hungarian Halfbred. The horse was tall enough for a giant to mount and ride, perhaps a little drastic for what you often used her for, long travels. Her stamina was the best you’d seen in a horse, nor did she startle easily. An incredibly rare attitude to find.

As dearly as you wished for the ride to be silent, to hear the rustling of the trees hoping to hear a voice whispering in the wind to you, the ever vision of such foolishness and pretty dreams were ruined in a moment as Hosea rides alongside you.

“Quite an impressive creature you’re mounted.” He comments after a few moments of silence.

“Sure.”

“I get the sense you don’t enjoy small talk.”

“Suppose you’d be right.”

“Whatever it is you’re hiding, I won’t pry. Although I can tell something seems to be tearing away at you.”

He was right, and you detest it. How it felt like every muscle and limb that contained life, flesh, was rotting from the inside out. As if there were some rapidly spreading cancerous disease. Clear of any disease, you concede it’s from heartbreak, grief.

Although there is one thing Hosea was prepared to teach you about.

“You remind me of my wife, in her younger days of course. She was never good at conversing when it came to small talk, nor did she have the patience for small minded men, although a kind woman.”

Through his rambling words, you suppose it’s doing him a favour to talk about his wife, the way he spoke about her — you could only assume his wife is not around anymore.

“Been eight years since I buried her. Yet, I feel ashamed to admit that I don’t visit often, I feel too much guilt for her passing, I fail to understand how I could have let this happen to her. The stubborn woman knew who I was, the kind of lifestyle I lived. In the end she paid the price.”

It should touch you, that he’s opening up about someone that were dearest to him but you can’t find yourself to care all that much. You had your own grief to wrangle, your own loss.

“I’m sorry about your wife.” It was strangled, a forced pry of pity for the old man. It’s all you could summon at this moment.

“You’re no such thing as sorry,” the old man retorts, but with a humorous laugh he smiles. “I take no offence, you don’t know me personally, I can’t expect you to take pity on me.”

The two of you make small talk, not giving too much away about your personal life, or anything before meeting Dutch and Arthur in the saloon in Valentine.

“How’d they convince you to join them?” There’s a ring of curiosity in his tone.

“I don’t need convincing to hunt down Colm or any goddamn O’Driscoll for that matter.”

The name leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, as if simply uttering the word is poisonous.

“Dutch has had a run in with Colm for years. Dutch killed Colm’s brother—Colm killed Dutch’s dearest wife, Annabelle. The rest is repeating history I suppose. It won’t end until one of them is dead.”

Adjusting your grip around the reigns you pull your horse to a standstill seeking cover for your horses behind the fallen fortitude of the prison, dismounting and searching through your satchel for your binoculars. As you grip them, you sneak bend down, using a fairly large rock for cover as you zoom in on the camp with a click of the slider.

“What Dutch does is his own business. I’m only here because we have a mutual agreement that Colm should suffer for his indifference.”

Hosea silently agrees. “What can you see?”

The sight is surprising and infuriating. “There’s at least a dozen men down here, if not more.” Moving the binoculars around you confirms the task Dutch sent you for.

“That’s Colm alright. Arrogant fool.” His disgusting wrinkled face and greying hair was undeniable, it was one etched into every ridge of your brain. Everytime you close your eyes, you see him.

Putting the binoculars away, you scowl. He’s right there, your fingers are itching to unholster your sawn off shotgun and ride in to execute him.

Hosea's hand grips your arm. “We need to get back to Dutch, report what we’ve seen.”

Something catches your eye— it can’t be. An O’Driscoll wondering around with a rifle, horribly keeping watch. He’s barely ten feet away from you, a man you recognise that was in your house the night your life ended. “Get on your horse.” Ushering Hosea, he relishes in your command and hastily sneaks back to where you’d left your horses.

Meanwhile you’re sneaking out from behind the rock, each footstep is carefully placed to not alarm the enemy, unholstering your revolver your fingers curl around the engraved wooden grip.

As soon as you get close enough behind the man, you tap the man on the shoulder roughly to get his attention. Before he could scream, or reach for his own poorly conditioned weapon you whack him on his face with the butt of your revolver. His nose begins to bleed the moment you retract the gun from his face.

You’re quick to catch him before his body could his the ground with a loud thud—setting him down gently as not to alarm his nearby comrades.

With a determined few loops, you’ve hogtied his hands and feet together in a restricting bind that would make it impossible to escape from. He’s heavy though, so you’ve resorted to gripping onto the knotted rope between his hands and dragging him to your horse behind the destroyed prison.

Hatred is enough to fuel your adrenaline alone, giving you a strength that impresses Hosea as you stow the unconscious man onto the back of your horse.

“Pathetic sack of shit.” You insult, mounting your horse and wiping off the man’s blood that had stained the cuff of your sleeve. You wanted this asshole alive when you interrogate him.

“Remind me not to piss you off.” Hosea mused as you two ride hastily back to camp.

“Well well, what do we have here,” Dutch laughs in amusement, sauntering over to you as you drag the slowly stirring O’Driscoll awake through the grass to a tree, tying the sorry sack of shit upright.

“This.. is our ticket to Colm.” You huff, wiping some beads of sweat off your brow.

“What of the camp?” Dutch reminds expectantly.

“Colm is there. Had at least a dozen heavily armed men.” You’re met with a smirk from Dutch, he knew that now you trusted him, his sources.

“Now, I did reassure you my dear, that my word is honest. What exactly do you plan to do with this fool?”

“I’ll dispose of him, once I get answers.”

The words came of second nature to you—it makes Arthur turn to Dutch with a raised brow. “Do you think this is a good idea Dutch?”

“My boy.. this woman is.. apart of my plan.”

Arthur couldn't help himself as he watched on, the familiar feeling of curiosity creeping inside of him. The urge to know more about you.

Now, it’s your turn to smile, the twisted expression makes the tied up O’Driscoll squirm as you approach him. “No.. no not you.” His voice is full of fear and it fills your chest with a sense of satisfaction. “No! I’ll pay someone real good if they kill this crazy bitch right now!”

“Oh yes Marv. You remember me, don’t you?” Now that he recognised you, it was time for the fun part. “I’ll cut you a deal, you know it’s Colm I want. Tell me where he is, and I’ll cut you loose.” The sound of your voice is kind, sympathetic, promising.

“I don’t believe you,” he sneers, but what choice did he have other than to trust you. One wave of your knife in his face was enough convincing. “Wait—wait alright! He’s planning to rob some rich fools in Saint Denis. I told you.. now let me go, just like you said.”

“Oh Marv..” for a moment you smile, in a twisted way, the O’Driscoll truly believes you’d cut him loose.

“You’re a fool to think I would turn you loose after what you did. Begging won’t save you from me. You’ll be rewarded with the death you deserve, I promise you that.” As soft as your voice was, it provided no comfort but a sharp crack of malice.

Pressing a firm kiss to his cheek with your sticky lipstick, it transfers into the perfect imprint of the shape of your lips. In doing so, it seals his fate with your signature cherry red stain.

“I’ll see you in hell, Marv.” The promise is met with its fulfilment, unsheathing your knife and plunging it deep into his neck. “But not before Colm joins you.”

With blood staining your hands, Marv slumps as he chokes on his own blood, watching as he takes his last breath. As you stand, you wipe the blood off your blade onto Marv’s coat.

“So.. Saint Denis.” You repeat to Dutch.

[allzelemonz]

Masterlist: Red Dead Redemption

Main Masterlist

Too many fics for them all to fit in one post. See the character and other sections for specific fics.

Updated 5/17/24

Abe

Arthur Morgan

Bill Williamson

Charles Smith

Colm O'Driscoll

Dutch Van der Linde

Javier Escuella

John Marston

Kieran Duffy

Micah Bell

Sean MacGuire

Multi Pairing (character/reader/character)

Scenario Masterlist

Ships

[loozer]

Uhmm, taking like, requests and stuff on character fanfics, so send em in (p.s, I'm only doing male reader or trans male reader bc it's something I'm more comfortable doing)

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

HI ITS ME THE MEAT EMOJI PERSON...!! could you draw dutch and colm together for me theyre my favorite crackship

They are such a “man who craves the validation / worship of people, and is willing to do grand gestures of love to win people over” and “manipulative person who showers people with love before pulling away to leave them wanting more” dynamic. I genuinely love them and I need people to see my vision with them. They are TOXIC Yaoi. Two manipulative men are in a saucy tug of war over… something. Likely power and influence; Money, fame, and the freedom to be unstoppable outlaws.

[amrass]

something with colm and dutch perchance?

This was a fun request, anon! It gave me an opportunity to write some Colm/Dutch and their relationship with The Strange Man as part 6 of BT. Two men with otherworldly ideas, following them through the decades, connected by an otherworldly being ...

Strange Men is now up on Ao3!

Warnings: Explicit smut, dubious consent, canonical character death, existential horror, supernatural themes

(Excerpt under the pic and the cut!)

Colm's smile widens, "Prideful little thing. Barely weaned off your mommy's tit and here you are, talking favors. There's one thing you may do for me though. You any good at using that tongue of yours for other things than talking bullshit?"

Dutch blinks. Then he scowls. But he doesn't splutter or squeak, because he has been on the streets for five years. Colm arches a brow at him as Dutch sucks on his cigarette, considering the trade.

This is just another thing I'm prideful about, you bastard. 

"You clean?" Dutch asks. 

Colm's brow twitches for just a second. He'll have lots of wrinkles when he's older, expression tight. "Course I'm clean."

"Then ... I wanna see you." If you're as hung as a horse I might have to reconsider, pride be damned.

[frostbitemutt]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Information⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

❆ So I've decided to re-do my blog, this is, as stated in the description, a yandre focused blog. THIS IS MEANT FOR HORROR PURPOSES. I find the pyshcology and horror aspects of the "yandere" trope. None of these fics are examples of healthy relationships, obsession is not love.

This is a sideblog. I will not name my main blog. I want them completely separate. 17.

Writing style, and fic format are very inspired by @yanderes-galore and @lonleydweller. If either are uncomfortable with amount of inspiration I take I will change it.

❆Inbox: 2

❆Status: Open

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Navigation⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

❆Rules ❆Masterlist ❆Fandoms ❆Prompts

[vandermorgansir]

Arthur watching Colm walking up to Dutch:

[makriiii]

A kinship, of sorts. (Frank Heck × freader)

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: As a member of the O’Driscoll's, the handy work for Colm led you places far and wide, which thereby led to meeting folks on a spectrum far and wide. As it was now, you found yourself having to choose between the life you wanted with the man you desired or escaping the life that chose you.

Authors note: This was initially a oneshot idea, which spiraled :') it's also so hard to find pictures of this man

Warnings: 18+, cursing, guns, nothing too bad yet..

Tags: Slight slow burn, found family, eventual smutt.

♡

(You can skip this if you'd like.)

This is something I've been thinking about writing for a while after I saw an old painting that gave me the idea.

I also decided I'd incorporate that plot into this Frank Heck fanfic I wanted to write, since I've never seen anyone write a fanfic about him (cries)

For those who don't know, he's a deleted character, but you'll see him on the collectable gunslinger cards in game. I think he's sexy hot and cool so therefore I will write down my fantasies about him🤑

Anywho, because he is a deleted character, and 1911 Jack only gives a short story about him, I believe he is open for a lot of interpretation.

So, I wanted to base heavily him off of Doc Holliday, of whom I also believe to be a certified sexy master, plus he respects women so I'm like aguhhh 😫 however Doc Holliday has an intellect and wit on a level I could only hope to match, but I will do my best :)

This is also something you could take to be part of y/n's backstory in caught. If you'd like it to be cannon or not cannon to the caught story, that's up to you since I didn't write anything about it in caught. I like to keep y/n's character open as much as possible, so you guys never feel alienated from any backstory elements of my own choosing.

But enough from me, read my story 😈

♡

"For the last time," grunted your fellow O'Driscoll, his tone serious compared to the two that chuckled lightly beside him as you rode up. "Get out of here kid, we got no business with you."

You raised a brow as you got off your horse to see what the commotion was about with your gang members and this... random kid.

He nearly buckled at the knees, his hands together in prayer. "But why can't I?" He begs, hoping his words would strike a chord. "I know how to shoot and steal! I can help you guys."

The boy, average in height and a bit unkempt, looked to be about fourteen or fifteen as he pleaded at the feet of Cormac. A gruff and often stern Irish man, not the one you'd go asking for things of this nature.

"You want to join us?" You question with a disbelieiving smirk. "What on God's green earth for?"

"Finally!" His sputtering siezed as he whipped around to meet your face, the one who let him speak his mind. Though you could tell he instantly questioned you due to your gender. "You ride with them?"

If the iron at your sides didn't make it obvious, you weren't sure what else would. "Sometimes I wish I didn't." You tried making it sound displeasurable, as he seemed to be one of the young men who liked the ideal of being an outlaw.

"Oh, please miss!" Now his badgering was directed solely towards you, but not before Cormac ruffled his hair harshly and pushed him aside.

He and your other two buddies scoffed in disbelief at the kids incessant pleading and started heading off, ushering you with them. "Colm wants this done today, don't waste your time on him."

You nodded, giving the kid one last glance before following them off the veranda.

Before you knew it, you felt your shirt being tugged at from behind, a desperate attempt and a ballsy show of determination.

You were quick to turn around and glare at the boys unduly behavior. "Now is that the best way to ask something of someone?" You question harshly, fixing your shirt.

Your buddies hadn't noticed your absence behind them, as they kept on in their direction, leaving you and this boy to conversate without interruption.

"You're the only one who seems to listen, so please hear me out, would ya?" His gaze turned soft and mushy, like you had just stolen and sucked down his candy. Tears were in the forecast if you weren't mistaken and here you were, feeling somewhat bad for him.

Glancing back once more, you finally engaged him fully. "Whats your name, boy?"

"Nathaniel. Nathaniel Clarke, ma'am." His voice shaky but hopeful.

"And where are your parents, Nathaniel?" That question seemed to shake him up more, though he didn't let it show for long. You could tell he wanted to be tough.

"Dead, Miss." His hazel eyes fixed on the ground as he dug his heel into the warped wood below him. "Doctor said he couldn't do nothin' for 'em."

"And this is the life you think they would've wanted you to turn to?"

Once again, no eye contact as he hesitated.

"I reckon not."

You huffed out a great deal of your guilt that was slowly building with each question. "Then take my advice and find yourself honest work. This ain't some rough and tumble fun, it's your life. Go find some cattle ranching work, somethin' or rather."

Breaking his eye contact with the ground, he finally met your eye. Searching for any semblance that you might change your mind. But now it seemed you'd finally broken and tamed the boy.

"I-" he mutters, perhaps now rethinking his decision. You gave him a bit of patience before checking behind you again, the rest of the boys nearly out of sight behind a building.

"Listen, kid, you wait here and think about it. If you're here when I get back, I'll consider it." You caved. Unwillingly, but you caved nonetheless. You saw in him yourself, and that did you in.

He shot up like a rocket and nodded, more than elated with that prospect.

"Okay!" He pumps his fist with victory and immediately situates himself on a bench no more than a few feet away. "I promise I'll be here when you're done."

The fire in his eyes and the excitement nearly made you smile, it was contagious, yet you knew what taking a path like yours would entail.

You turned and picked up your pace to catch up with the rest of the men, the walk giving you time to reflect.

As happy as he was, you could not share the sentiment for long. You debated wether you should come back at all. You didn't want this for a boy like him, his whole life still open as a plain. Not narrowed or dimmed to a single path of stone.

All you could do was hope he would find himself something better to do. Yet, the thought remained, if he didn't - would he find a different, possibly worse person to beg, one that would accept?

You felt responsible for a kid you had just now met, worried for his well being.

---

The town lay quiet and dim, only noises from the saloon sounded throughout the place. Fog had picked up and it was no doubt late.

You, Cormac, Conor and Willis were all far from home - or atleast the area that you were better familiar with. You were in Blackwater, the up and coming city where leads were plentiful.

"Whats the time, Cormac?" You asked, fighting off a yawn as you trudged through the slightly damp dirt below.

"Quarter to one." He responds, his voice heavy with exhaustion. The lot of you had just gotten done with an array of things. Gambling, negotiating and sorting some... 'pal's' of yours out. "We oughta get back soon to Valentine."

"Lest we want Colm to have our balls for it." Willis starts giggling while gesturing to his lower parts, which riles up Conor.

You couldn't believe the four of you were the ones Colm entrusted his most important work to. Perhaps Cormac and you, but Conor and Willis were just the two you babysat together.

Both of them had their humor, some of which you found funny, but not on this particular night. Cormac neither, though a bit harsh, he was calmer like yourself, leading to a better partnership between the two of you.

"No one unpaid would willingly take a look at those, but perhaps you'd both quiet down without them." You chime mockingly, rubbing your tired eyes. Not often did you stay up so late due to the trade off of getting up early.

Cormac stayed quiet, but you could tell he enjoyed your retort.

"We'd pay you to nab our balls! Itd be much more enjoyable than Colm doing it." Blurts Conor, getting quite the rise out of Willis. Their accents making them sound ever so silly.

Your horse was further away from where they had tied theirs, thankfully, leaving you guys to split not long after Conor and Willis's joking.

Cormac shoved Conor and Willis away toward their horses for you and nodded your way as you separated.

"I won't be coming back tonight to camp, I have business elsewhere, Cormac."

"That's fine. But Colm'll want you back in Valentine in due time." He replies, arranging himself to get up on his horse. "I'll tell him."

"Aw, don't tell us you're leaving again, y/n!" Willis pouts, whether he was serious or not you'd never tell. "She's goin' off to cheat on us again."

"With that Mr. High and Mighty?" Conor fires, annoyed in your choice of men.

"Who else you think? Dunderhead."

Conor slaps his friends shoulder, glaring. "Colm's gonna get fed up with your eloping soon, y/n."

"What can't two fine lads such as ourselves offer that he can?"

"Precisely. " Conor agrees, "two for one deal."

You sighed, they were cleaning your ears right off with all their badgering. "You both have a face only a mother could love."

"Ahh," Conor hissed out, "let me show you what a real man can do."

"Yeah and what about you taking a look at our-" Slapped upside the head by Cormac, he finally relented, a muffled snicker coming from him and Willis.

"Good riddans, you bothersome bastards." You couldn't help but laugh after all their talk, only to get shut down by Cormac.

You thanked him and made your way back to your horse. As you put away your earnings, aloof and in a rather good mood despite the fatigue, you heard soft snores.

You listened for a second, confused on whether you were hearing things or if someone was laid out sleeping close by. A drunkard probably.

When you peeked around your horse through the dark, on the bench, the realization slapped you in the face.

There was that Clarke boy. Asleep but stationed right where he promised he'd be.

Observing him for a short while, you thought on it again. The option of just leaving still available.

He slept peacefully. His hat over his face and his pistol hidden by his grasp on it.

It crushed you - the decision that was to be made. He had waited all day for you to come back. His determination from earlier evident, no lack of it at all.

Hesitating, you finally walked back up the steps and sat beside him.

It was quiet out, peaceful, despite the ambiance of the saloon.

You thought of what to say, of what his life would be like with the gang, with the O’Driscolls. You may ride with them but you didn't think them good. But that's why you rode with them, you weren't neither.

With a light shake on his shoulder, he jolted up, which took you by slight surprise as well.

He fixed his hat quickly and shakes himself out of his drowsy state. "You see? I waited!"

"So is evident." You couldn't help but smile at his excitement, but still the guilt ate at you. "I'll let you ride with me for a bit, but then, we are finding you a proper place of employment."

"You mean it, really?" He questions, his face serious but excited.

"I do." You got up, returning to your horse, the Clarke boy scrambling up behind you. "But only for a bit, you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am!" He stands to a salute instantly, demonstrating his understanding.

You unraveled your horses reins, rubbing her face lovingly before she kindly snorted all over you. Thanking her sarcastically, you looked over to the boy who still stood with proper posture.

Giving him a look, he questioned you back, unsure of what you were getting at.

"Your horse, boy, where's that at?"

He considered you for a moment, standing perfectly still before looking beside you and pointing at one of the critters tied up by the saloon.

Now you both stood there staring at eachother. Him, an innocent, mindless stare, and you, one that saw right passed it.

"So, you don't have one yet."

"Is there really any harm in taking from the bastards here?" He reasons, taking a stroll over there to examine his choices. "I'll take one who's ill-taken care of. It'll be like a good deed, no?"

"I aint got much of a problem with it, I suppose. Just don't get caught."

After you mounted, he had chosen his steed. A deep bay, not much bigger than your average quarter horse. A stallion, as it looked to be, was ribby and a bit weak looking. Under fed at best.

"You sure?" You affirmed, examining the horse and the Clarke boy.

"I'm sure. I like this one." He jumps on quickly, scanning behind him making sure the owner wasn't happening out of the bar.

"Right." You nod, kicking your horse into action, following the road out of Blackwater. "We got a long way to go."

You had heard rumors of another gang around these parts as of recent. Van Der Linde's gang. You knew of them, but hadn't run into them as of yet, and planned on keeping it that way. Especially now that you had this boy to keep alive.

Colm had always wanted you off anything that could potentially involve them. You were valuable with what you could perform and Colm wanted you to have no dealings with them.

"Where you takin' us?" The Clarke boy questions, no undertone of worry in his voice at the fact that he was leaving with a stranger. An outlaw at that.

"South." You relay after checking your small, brass compass. "Seein' a buddy of mine."

His new horse seemed to be having a bit of fit, perhaps due to the fact it was unsure of who was now on his back. The young boy seemingly more than capable to handle the tantrum.

His hands remained loose on the reins, patting the stallions neck, soothing him best he could.

Atleast the he had a handle on horses, you weren't sure about what else he had for skills, but you were sure to find out in time.

"Who's the buddy?" He questions, he wasn't afriad of asking too many questions.

You gave him a thoughtful look before deciding wether to tell him or not, though seeing as he would be meeting him soon enough, you let it be known. "Frank Heck."

"Frank Heck!" He repeats in a loud burst, completely focused in on you now. "You know the Frank Heck? The gunslinger?"

It was this particular reaction that had you afore contemplating. "I suppose so."

"How'd- how? You actually know him? The gunslinger Frank Heck!"

You sighed out deeply, leaving your reins loose to run your hands through your hair. You definitely were to have a case of hat head, bad at that.

"I mean!" He's positively gobsmacked. "I read stories about him, he's famous!"

"Why, yes he is. He's somethin'."

"I get to meet him? Really?"

"You do. Don't worry." You were tired, and unable to understand how he had so much energy at such a late time in the night.

You just needed to find a place that was safe enough for the both of you till morning.

-----

It didn't take long for you to realize that, your drowsy state from last night had your judgment lacking. Heavily.

You didn't have nearly enough supplies to get you to New Austin with the Clarke boy in tow.

It was enough to get you by - barely, but you'd both be sun baked human jerkies before getting all the way to Armadillo.

The sun just barely greeted the land around as you sat with the company of the crackling fire you had just revived.

Your horses snorted every so often, grazing on what little half dead grass there was around the edges of the plains. Your horse and Clarke's new ride got along well, which made things a bit better.

That boy was still sleeping soundly, on what looks to be rather uncomfortable. A saddle and dirt, but he made do. His mouth wide open, drooling on his saddle.

So far, you didn't mind the company, albeit the company did have quite a lot to say.

Mousing away from Colm and the rest of your gang was something you liked to indulge in as often as possible. Colm didn't like it so much at first, but eventually came to allow it once you did for him decent work.

Now on your mind was Frank. What has he been up to during the time you'd been away from eachother?

When you'd met him, you saw him as nothing more than the typical law hating gunslinger who dressed well enough to be gawked over. One who gambled with more than just money.

And now he offered you a way to spend your time that wasn't either traversing alone or traversing with O'Driscoll's.

While some of the men, like Cormac, were decent enough company, you didn't actively prefer their company.

Frank interested you and you, him.

When you had left, you mentioned you had business to attend to in Armadillo. He found himself relating, mentioning that he'd wait for you there.

You weren't entirely sure what would compell him to stay in a town like that, with the lives there being amongst the lowest you could come across.

Criminals of all kinds crawled about the place like fire ants to a hive, their presence easily detected by the pandemonium they caused. The Del Lobos also made their appearance quite often, the stars of the show. The scarlet fever outbreak helped none either.

"Aghh." Groaned the sleepy Clarke boy from behind you, effectively spooking you out of your thoughts.

He started coughing and spitting quite suddenly, for whatever reason for, was beyond you.

"Damn bug in my mouth!" Wiping his tongue off throughly.

"Put that in there for breakfast" You teased, pushing yourself up from the ground. "Figured you were hungry by the way your mouth was hangin' open."

"Did you really?" He gasps, staring down at the grasshopper who'd trespassed, crippled on the ground, twitching.

"I told you. Gang life isn't what you expected."

"You feed eachother grasshoppers whilst asleep?"

Teasing the boy was certainly something fun to do.

"It's how we care for eachother when food is sparse."

He watched you closely, trying to glean any deception on your face. "You're fibbin', I aint never read that in any of my books."

"Well, your first mistake is trusting those silly books. You usher him up with a gesture, to which he promptly obeys. "Your second is trusting a stranger."

"So you were fibbin'!"

"I might actually next time."

"I needn't that, Miss, dont worry." He was quick to relieve you of any such duties. "Hey, wait.."

You gave him a glance of acknowledgement, then continued packing your horse.

"What is your name anyway? You never did tell me." His curious nature reminded both yourself and him, that you'd never given him your name.

"Y/n L/n. You ain't oughta keep callin' me Miss, though." You answered, mounting your horse, now just waiting for Clarke.

"Payin' respect where respects due, Miss y/n." Nathaniel explained, "you were kind to me and took me in."

He watched the floor as he spoke, a long on him you couldn't quite place.

"Get on your horse, Clarke. I'm gonna tell you a story."

His was quick for his horse once you told him that. By the recollection of his books, stories were something that interested him.

"I'm all ears!" He chirps, his stallion quick to be by your horses side.

You click your horse forward to resume the direction you'd been traveling the night previous. "When I was younger, I wasn't so dissimilar to you. A bit older perhaps when I met someone who took me in."

He listened in intently, almost leaning out of his saddle for the rest that was to come.

"He was kind, at times, he gave me what I needed, clothed me, fed me... I'm here now because of it. But as it were, the man he seemed to be, was only ever temporary." Your speech drawed out at times as you recounted the earlier days of being with Colm O'Driscoll.

"I can't say he changed - that's who he always was. When I realized, I had already done myself in." You left the details bleak, the story flesh gapped, you didn't find yourself enjoying the retelling. "He did various things to me I wasn't fond of, but I did whats needed, and now I get off lightly at times. Like now."

"You can't just leave?" Nathaniel whispers, his voice at a lowest record volume.

"I try. Only ever temporary." You did your utmost to drive the point home that gang life was truly not something to be actively searching out for. "I do what I do for that gang, I have no choice, and I ain't want you nailed to the same chain."

He seemed to have a bit more understanding now, fiddling with his stallions hair as he pondered the words of warning.

You gave him his time to contemplate, shaking off the rest of the memories and regret that left your conscience heavy.

"Then what else is there for me to do? To live for?"

It hit you like a stream train. You quite honestly had nothing to say for a minute.

"My ma was a waitress, my pa, a retired Sheriff. They did their best with what we had but.." he hesitates, peering off into the cactus covered horizon. "It didn't last. So I had to figure something else out. Just, I don't know what now."

"You think bein' an outlaw is the only way?" You were light with any judgement.

"I think it'd give me something to do. I can get money, go west. That's where everyone keeps talkin' bout anyway."

The west. The golden west. That was the land of opportunity. A better path for the boy, no doubt, but the way he desired to aquire it, wasn't right.

"Keep yourself straight, kid. It wouldn't give you anything worth while to do."

---

Nathaniel was perfectly described as near ghastly, the time under the sun certainly showing it's toll on him now.

Just in the distance was the dim lights of Armadillo. It was comforting, in the sense that there was to be some sort of food and water. But the company on the other hand...

His eyes were shut, leaning back in his saddle, blind trust in both you and your horse. You gave him a pat on the shoulder, alerting him to the sight ahead.

"We're 'bout near our destination. You are aware of Armadillos reputation, right?"

"I read about it in the newspapers. It sounds exciting." Nathaniel announced proudly, as if this place was a party.

"Exciting?" You fret, unsure of just what exactly these books he'd been reading had been telling him. "Just stay close to me, and don't speak to anyone. I mean it."

"Whatever you say, Miss y/n. I swear to you."

Upon your arrival in town, the place wasn't nearly as quiet as Blackwater. Some occasional yelling, people of many various bearings spread about the desolate town.

You eyed Nathaniel, making sure he stayed close. Constantly scanning for anything that'd bring either of you harm, but also for a Frank.

"I'm so hungry.." He grumbles, rubbing his stomach as you dismounted and tied your horses.

"Me too, my boy, me too." You agree, your spurs jingling as you stepped up the stairs. "This place has food, but dont get too roused."

"You'll get me something?" He swiftly stomped up the stairs behind you and into the saloon to keep close.

"Well, seeing as you didn't like breakfast."

He snorts out a little snicker, taking a seat at the bar next to you. You could tell he was uncomfortable, his initial impression of the place hadn't come 'round like he wished.

The people of Armadillo gave you lot stares. The two of you sticking out particularly sorely.

You let him pick out what he wanted from the very sparse choices the bartender offered, ordering after him yourself a drink.

"Whats that stuff taste like anyway?" Nathaniel wondered aloud, his face getting much too close to your glass than it should be.

You flicked his hat up, having him scramble to keep it from flying off. "Like something you shouldn't be drinking-"

Two men interrupted your banter, Nathaniel's staunch attention now directed towards them.

"Hey, little lady." The man, rugged as a bear, leaning against the counter, stared a burning hole through you.

"She got a little boy here." Scoffs evily his partner, sure to add the observation.

"You aint from here, are you, amiga?" His voice heavy with a Spanish accent. You knew exactly what occupation he held by the gun belts adorning his chest.

You stayed quiet, observing him intently. You didn't want any trouble, especially not with Nathaniel in tow. He was thankfully keeping your rule in mind.

Their chuckles were sinister and breathy as they surveyed you and Nathaniel. They weren't out to make friends, hopefully not to kill either, but to intimidate.

The first Del Lobo raised his hand to touch your green scarf. Rubbing it between his fingers as he inspected it.

You'd forgotten to take the damn thing off, preoccupied with watching over Nathaniel.

His eyes met with yours as he stood over you menacingly, raising your chin up with his dirt smudged finger.

"Hey!" Nathaniel barks out his opposition, coming to a stand, his hand now resting on his revolver. "Don't you be touchin' her."

You sat him right back down, the two men reveling with the reaction they could get out of him.

"Keep your boy in check, eh? 'Fore he gets himself hurt." Hummed the first man, a sickly satisfied look in his dark eye. "You're an O’Driscoll, we dealt with ya before."

"Sure you understand we aint like visitors." Crowed the next, shorter and skinnier, yet just about as threatening.

"Why, surely that's not who I believe it to be." Came yet another voice, one soothing, a familiar silvery voice.

His hands laid themselves on your shoulders, a scent you could pick out anywhere quickly filling your nose. "My darlin', y/n!"

There was Frank. A sweet talker at times.

Nathaniel's eyes lit up as he saw the, well, in book terms, a legendary gunslinger, acting particularly comfy with you and nonetheless aloof as described in the texts. His whole body siezed with the whole situation, overwhelmed and not sure what he was to do with himself.

"Hello Frank," you greeted warmly, side eyeing the two men who seemed slighted by the abrupt arrival of this man. "I was beginning to wonder if we'd ever see you." You turn to embrace the man you thought of ever so fondly since you'd met him.

"Oh, I'd never mean to keep you waiting." he promptly apologized, "Now, what is it we arrange for you mannerly individuals?"