#thank you yandere community

[radiostaticsmile]

making myself easy to stalk in order to support the yandere community

[sky-high-standards]

Yandere dragon x knight reader

Warning!!!: mild smut capturing

Just a twist on the yandere knight x dragon reader my single pringles~💜

Yandere dragon~ Who's the most feared dragon in all the land and has destroyed many Kingdoms with his wrath.

Yandere dragon~ Who, like any other dragon, collected precious and beautiful things and kingdoms would normally offer treasures in return for mercy and that's exactly what your kingdom did.

Yandere dragon~ Who soon got bored and displeased with the treasures offered and decided to take the princess instead and you had to rescue her since you're the most honored knight in the kingdom.

Yandere dragon~ Who was amused to see you demanding he release the princess. It was cute to see a tiny little knight facing the most feared dragon and he decided to toy with you for a bit before devouring you.

Yandere dragon~ Who was quite impressed with your skills but easily wore you out and was about to burn you to a crisp when suddenly your helmet fell off.

Yandere dragon~ Who is temporarily stunned by you. You were astonishing the most beautiful treasure he's ever come across.

Yandere dragon~ Who watches you ride away on your stead while he's distracted to safety his deep amber eyes lingering on your form.

Yandere dragon~ Who flies to your kingdom and makes s deal with the king, the princess in return you.

Yandere dragon~ Who grins at how the king immediate agreed and the villagers quickly give you to him and have you tied up so pretty like a gift on Christmas morning.

Yandere dragon~ Who shows you his human form in order to scare you a little less and in hopes it'll be easier for you to take him as your mate since he knows how captivating he is in that form.

Yandere dragon~ Who treats you like glass humans do tend to be quite fragile after all and he could never harm his little treasure.

Yandere dragon~ Who breeds you as soon as you warm up to him and makes sure to be extra gentle with you if he's just a little too rough he'll be sure to break you.

Yandere dragon~ Who covers you in jewels and rubies as a way to show you're his you didn't seem to like the love bites, but he still gives you some on occasion.

No one will ever harm you or our family my treasure…I'll make sure of it~

[ak319]

(AN: Reader is 13-15, Arthur, 23-24)

Warnings: Not incest, strictly platonic, angst, fluff

You watched Arthur’s every move as he settled in, his face weary yet hardened, scrubbing off remnants of dirt and whatever else he’d encountered in the washing barrel. You lowered the clothes you were folding, feeling the slight twinge of nerves as you reached for his stew.

He liked it hot, which meant you had to reheat the pot. You realized you hadn’t eaten all day, but you brushed the thought aside. Taking the bowl in hand, you crossed over to him as he finally sat down, visibly exhausted.

“Here, Arthur." You said softly, extending the bowl to him.

He grunted in response, the closest thing to a “thank you” he would offer, and took it from you, his gaze giving you a quick once-over before returning to his meal. Routine checkup as you called it.

Trying to bridge the silence, you ventured, “So...how was it?”

Arthur barely looked up. “Was what?”

“The job…” You tried not to sound too eager, but the truth was, you were starved for any scrap of conversation, any glimpse into the part of his life that stayed cloaked in secrecy.

“Went well.” He replied curtly, still focused on his food.

A brief silence followed as you fiddled with a strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. You felt a familiar ache bloom at the base of your skull and then another one at the abdomen, a dreadful sensation. Just then, it hit you, your period was due.

You froze, holding the empty tray as the realization dawned. Arthur looked up, stew mid-bite, and raised a brow at your sudden stillness, your gaze into space.

“What’s got you standin’ there like a ghost?” he muttered.

“Huh? Oh… nothing,” you managed to reply, trying to appear casual, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint flush that had spread across your face.

“Need... anything?”

"Um..." You started pondering which perhaps went on for a minute.

Arthur’s gruff voice interrupted your thoughts. He reached into his pocket and, with a casual flick, tossed a few crumpled bills onto the tray. “Your pocket money. Now, go brew the coffee.”

The whole thing felt like a bad joke. Arthur tossed you a few bucks every so often, calling it "pocket money," like you could waltz into town and buy whatever you wanted. But he was always right there with you whenever you went to the market, keeping a close eye on everything. Or you had to give him the list.

“Uh? Um... th-thanks.”

Arthur's brow furrowed, his gaze sharpening. "What’s wrong with you today? Why are you actin’ weird?”

You forced a chuckle, shaking your head. “I’m fine, actually. You’re the one who is wei-, um looks tired. I’ll get on with the coffee.”

Before he could question you further, you hurried off, trying to shake the unease settling in your stomach. As you set the coffee pot on, you remembered the stew you’d set aside for yourself and turned toward the wagon, only to see Pearson ladling out the last bowl for himself.

A pang of frustration mixed with the ache of hunger, you’d been so careful, setting everything up, and now even that small comfort had slipped through your fingers.

First, the looming sense of dread that seemed to haunt your every step, and now this, a missed meal because Pearson snatched up the last bowl of stew without a second thought. Emotions churned, thick and heavy, clouding your mind as you went about your tasks in a haze.

You delivered Arthur’s damn coffee, scrubbed his dishes clean, and finished up the rest of your chores, all while running on nothing more than stale biscuits and the last dregs of (tea/coffee). Asking others for food? You didn’t want to be seen as Arthur’s sister, the one mooching off his work, asking for scraps, felt cheap, when he practically carried the camp on his shoulders. The thought made your stomach churn with resentment and embarrassment. Yeah, not something a Morgan does. Although in your opinion, you shouldn't be doing anything if he earns the most...but whatever. Asking from your brother? If he found out you skipped lunch. He’d be livid, calling you reckless or worse for not managing the basics, you couldn't handle a scolding at the moment.

Frustration gnawed at you. It wasn't just the hunger, it was the constant grind of chores, endless and thankless, all because you were one of the few women in the camp. Susan wielded her age like a shield, always finding ways to rest while you and Annabelle picked up the slack. But even Annabelle was too busy, neck-deep in whatever business kept her hands clean of the daily tasks. And so, it fell to you.

You flopped onto your cot, hiding your face in the pillow as the pains of hunger and period mixed with a deeper ache, one of loneliness, exhaustion, and memories you could almost taste. You remembered your mother’s gentle hand on your forehead when you were ill, the comforting smell of warm food she’d bring, and the luxury of rest she allowed you. It felt like a distant, lost dream now. Here, rest wasn’t an option, it was a rare privilege you couldn’t afford. Great, now your pillow is also wet with tears.

⋆⋆⋆

You were knee-deep in a mountain of laundry, your temper simmering with each aggressive scrub against the washboard. The clothes bore the brunt of your pent-up frustration, wrung and scrubbed with a vengeance. Suddenly, something light and obnoxious hit the basket, a boy’s underwear. You knew immediately who the culprit was.

"How. Dare. You?" you snapped, eyes narrowing.

John, already a few steps away, stopped and turned, a lazy smirk creeping across his face. "What? You’re the one washing."

"Yes, I am the one washing, you jerk." You grabbed the offending article and chucked it back at him, hitting him square in the face. His eyes widened, and he gasped, genuinely taken aback.

"But I am not washing that!" you said, pointing at the ragged underwear as if it were a symbol of all your grievances. "Those are for you to wash, understand?"

John held the underwear in his hands, clearly bewildered. "What? Why? Is it not… a cloth? And why would I wash it? I’ve got way more important things to do." His voice grated against your headache, every word echoing like a drumbeat in your skull.

"Important huh? Okay. Then let's solve this problem another way."

You could feel your patience unraveling, and, without thinking, you yanked a pair of scissors from your belt and snipped through the fabric with one swift motion.

"Hey! That was one of my two pairs! What the hell is wrong with you?!" he yelped, clutching the scraps as if they were made of gold.

"Then maybe you should think twice before tossing them my way! Now go and cry." you shot back, but the anger and heat were taking their toll. Your vision blurred slightly, the world beginning to spin.

John’s voice rose in protest, but it sounded muffled, distant. You took a step back, steadying yourself on the edge of the wash basin, blinking rapidly to try and clear your head. "Damn heat… and damn you, John…" you muttered, but the words seemed to tangle and drift as darkness crept in at the corners of your vision.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first sight that met you was Ms. Grimshaw, her familiar face creased with concern as she fanned you gently with a worn-out piece of fabric.

"Ah! You are awake, quite the theatrics you put on out there..." Her voice was both exasperated and relieved. You let out a soft groan in response, turning onto your side, trying to escape the brightness of the day that felt too harsh against your feverish skin. Your throat felt like sandpaper, and the heavy weight of your head pressed down against the pillow.

"T-time...?" you managed to croak, the words feeling foreign in your mouth.

"It's four," she replied, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

Your eyes shot open wide in panic. "T-the clothes? I-"

Susan rolled her eyes, cutting you off. "I washed them, don't worry. But tomorrow you gotta do them, got it? And what’s with you tearing that boy’s underwear?"

"Huh...? What?" Confusion clouded your thoughts as you reached for your canteen, the bitter taste in your mouth only worsening your discomfort.

"Forget it," she huffed, shaking her head. "Oh, I hear him. I think Arthur's back."

Panic surged through you as you struggled to focus, the realization hitting hard. Arthur. You had to see him, make his coffee, bring him his food, and make sure he knew you were at the camp and doing your part in the camp. But every instinct in you rebelled against the idea, your muscles weak and senses dulled as if they’d given up the fight.

Your vision blurred, and you sank deeper into the cot, eyelids heavy, your body refusing to cooperate. You barely registered Susan’s faint, dismissive muttering as she left the tent, her words blending into a haze of disapproval. For now, making sure Arthur was taken care of was the least of your worries.

Meanwhile, Susan spotted Arthur sitting by his cot, his irritation palpable. Freshly cleaned up from his last job, he seemed expectant, perhaps wondering where you were with his usual meal or coffee. Sensing an opportunity to stir up trouble, she approached him, her tone casual but dripping with judgment.

"Mr. Morgan," she began with a sly look, "your sister did nothing today. Not a damn thing. And right now? She’s sleeping in, like she's royalty or something."

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Why would she do that?”

“Who knows?” Susan shrugged with exaggerated indifference. “She had some spat with John, then just sulked off and refused to lift a finger.”

The moment the words left her lips, Arthur was on his feet, his expression hardening. Without a word to Susan, he strode to your tent and pushed open the flap, not bothering to knock. His gaze swept over you, expecting to find you feigning sleep, or maybe just ignoring the day’s tasks.

"What the hell is you-"

But the sight of you, lying pale and motionless beneath the blanket, immediately stopped him in his tracks. A faint flush tinged your face, and your breathing was shallow. His agitation shifted to alarm in an instant.

Arthur knelt beside you, his hand reaching to press gently against your forehead, feeling the unmistakable heat of fever radiating through his palm. “Damn it,” he muttered, guilt and worry flooding his face. He’d been ready to scold you for shirking camp duties, and instead, here you were, worn down to the bone.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely focusing as you tried to mumble something. “Arthur... I meant... to get your food… just…”

His jaw tightened, frustration directed inward. “You’ve been pushin’ yourself too hard,” he said, his voice low but edged with anger, at himself, at Susan, at anyone who’d failed to notice what you were going through. “You’re coming with me to the clinic, no arguments.”

You nodded weakly, relief and exhaustion settling over you. Without another word, he slipped his arms beneath you, lifting you up with a gentleness that made your heart ache.

As he carried you to the stables, he did not forget to throw a bloodthirsty look at Susan making her gulp. It clearly stated.

'You are dead if something happens to her.'

The air in the clinic was thick with the smell of antiseptic and the soft rustle of the doctor’s coat as he examined you. Arthur sat beside you, his brow furrowed with concern, his hand clenched into a fist resting on his thigh. You lay on the cot, shivering despite the blanket wrapped around you, your pallor alarming him even more than before. The doctor’s voice was a distant murmur, but the words echoed in your ears.

“She’s suffering from dehydration fever. It’s left her weak, but with proper treatment, she should recover. Make sure she stays hydrated, and she’ll need rest, here's the prescription and you can go home if you want once the drip is finished..” The doctor turned to you one last time with a gentle smile. "Rest well, alright? Lots of it."

As soon as the door clicked shut behind the doctor, Arthur turned to you, his expression shifting from worry to something sharper, more intense. “What the hell were you thinking?!” he snapped, his voice low but edged with anger. “You could have told me you weren’t feeling well. Instead, you’ve been pushing yourself like this?”

You flinched at his tone, the weight of his words mixing with the guilt that already gnawed at you. “I--but you said...that I gotta...work...” you started, but the words caught in your throat, and instead of explanations, tears began to prick at your eyes.

"FUCK WHAT I SAID!- "He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I also said to take care of yourself, I am not always around! And just--look at you..."

“I--I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “I thought I could manage...”

“Thought!?” he echoed, incredulous. “You can’t just think you can handle it all when you’re this sick! You’ve been working yourself to the bone! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you ask for help?” His voice rose with each word, frustration spilling over as he paced the floor, refusing to meet your gaze.

"And what did you just tell the doctor, huh? That this wasn't the first time it happened?! Are you kidding me?! Are you tryin' to waste yourself?!"

The harshness of his tone cut through you, and you couldn’t help the tears that began to spill down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your throat tightening. As you looked into his furious eyes, the dam broke. The tears spilt over, hot and unrelenting as you remembered all the times, you put him and others first, in fear.

In fear of being left with strangers while Arthur is away and thinking that they might say or do something to you if you don't do the work properly.

"Damn it,” he murmured, his voice softening. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I was...scared and I-I--miss her,” you sobbed, clutching the blanket tightly around you as if it could shield you from the pain. “I miss Mama. She would know what to do. She would take care of me…please take me to Mama...” Your voice cracked, the memories of her soothing presence and the comfort she always provided weighing heavily on your heart.

Arthur’s anger faltered as he watched you break down. hearing you call for Mama again and again was agonizing. He felt his heart twist painfully at your words, the memories of your mother hanging heavy in the air. “I know,” he said quietly, his voice losing its edge. He reached out, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks, his own frustration melting away in the face of your grief. “I miss her too. But you can’t go on like this. You need to take care of yourself for her, for both of us. And why the hell are you scared, you are my sis' and as long as I am alive, no one can touch a strand of yours,” He pulled you in a side hug carefully.

"And listen here, from now on, you only do my chores. Fuck the camp." You pulled away slightly, in shock.

"W-what?"

He nodded with a playful smile. "Damn right. You get better and you do my work only. Susan can surely handle the others, right?"

You blinked up at him, your surprise turning into disbelief. “Arthur, you can’t just tell me to ignore everything else... I can’t put that on Susan. She-”

He interrupted you with a firm squeeze of your hand, his eyes softening. “I can and I will. You need to rest, and if that means I have to play the tyrant for a bit, so be it. Besides, Susan can manage. She’s been slacking off more than you realize. And if someone has a problem with it then they can come to me. Anytime.”

A small laugh, almost devilish, bubbled up despite your exhaustion, the tension easing slightly. You snuggled back into the hug to calm your shivering.

“That's...that would be fun to watch."

He nodded and you decided to press your advantage. “Um…so tell her to do your chores too-”

"Don't get too ahead of yourself now."

I hate you.

“Get well soon, and you better take your meds and all when I ain’t around.” Arthur’s voice held a rough tenderness, though he masked it with a gruff tone. Beneath his impatience, you sensed a genuine worry, a hint of eagerness for you to recover, not that he’d admit it, of course. His true motive, or so he told himself, was purely practical.

Pearson’s stew lacked the warmth and care you added to every meal, and coffee was never quite right unless you made it.

He groaned inwardly, imagining another week of choking down meals without your touch. But the look he shot you as he spoke was more protective than he probably intended, softening just enough that you knew he was looking out for you.

“Did ye’ even hear me, missy?” he muttered, noticing your eyelids drooping, his words somewhere between annoyed and fond.

You jumped, startled out of the drowsiness that was starting to creep over you, and gave a hum of acknowledgement.

⋆⋆⋆

John rushed up to Arthur as he emerged from your tent, having just ensured you were well-fed and rested.

"What is it, you rascal?" Arthur asked, turning to face him with a mix of curiosity and annoyance.

“Um... I was looking forward to a compensation…” John trailed off, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“For?” Arthur raised an eyebrow amused, the impatience creeping into his tone.

“(Y/N), tore... she... tore my underwear, which is not fair...I only asked her to wash it...I mean....”

A smirk crept across Arthur's face. “She did the right thing, I am proud of her.” He grabbed John by the back of his neck, pulling him close with a playful yet threatening grin.

"My sis ain't your maid, boy, got it? In fact, nobody's maid here. Wash your shit yourself.” The playful banter vanished, replaced by a weighty silence as Arthur's gaze hardened. He gave John a firm shove, sending him stumbling back and casually walking back to his own tent, chuckling at the boy's foolish request.

[14dayswithyou]

💖 Day 3 Early Access! 💖

Day 3 is now available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord server! Feel free to join here! (you'll need to verify your age to get in!)

After waiting so long, you can finally meet Moth and Kiara ^^ (character sheets coming soon!)

There's (yet another) woohoo scene, as well as a new Dead End!

New easter eggs! Fox Ren is real and he's sitting on his tail /silly

A noticeable update to the GUI and overall game "aesthetic"!

A brand new CG for Day 3! As well as all previous CG art matching Ren's hair length now!

And a ton of other things that I don't want to spoil ;v;

——— Day 3 is only available for Discord members right now, but it will be released to the public soon! Thank you for your patience ♡

[b1tchyboyxd]

★Spoiler alert !!

Small spoiler of the story I'm currently writing ;3

Request by : ⚰️ Annon

───────────── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ────────────

He could feel the heat from your body now, he could hear the sound of your breath in your chest. You were so close, so vulnerable, so ready for the taking.

But he had to be careful, one wrong move and you would resist.

“Please.” he said, his voice low and persuasive.

“Let me walk you home. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something happened to you on the way.”

Your resistance faded at his words, your exhaustion winning out over your sense of politeness.

You sighed, your shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Alright.” you said, a note of resignation in your voice. “If you’re really sure it’s no trouble…”

A wave of exhilaration washed over him.

He had done it. He had won.

Kenji's smile turned into a smirk as he casually slipped his arm around you, guiding you out of the now-dark cafe.

───────────── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ────────────

lol

[oddsconvert]

"Open it." For my boy Josh (prompt for the five sentence fic!)

"Open it."

It isn't a request.

It's a dare. An ice-cold threat that freezes Josh to the spot. He stands paralyzed, his clammy palm welded to the doorknob. Josh's sorry life flashes before his bloodshot eyes, and his freedom taunts him from the other side of the unlocked door. It calls him, it pulls him like a magnet.

Josh wants to live, and not just survive. He wants his life back. His simple, mundane life. He'd give anything and everything to blend back into the world and fade into the background.

"Go on, Joshy. See what happens the second you open that door." Felix stalks closer but Josh doesn't face him. He can't face him. With his puffy, tear-stained cheeks and deer-in-headlight eyes. Josh's ears prick up at the sound of slow footsteps coming to a stop just over his shoulder.

"You know I'd catch you, don't you, honey?" Felix half purrs, half growls. Josh's thumping heart falls to the pit of his stomach. "God have mercy on you, I'd hunt you down like a wild animal. And when I finally find you...?"

Josh physically cringes and shrivels up as Felix nibbles at Josh's neck and kisses the dip of his collarbone. Felix slowly reaches around to place his hand on top of Josh's shaking one, on the door handle, and pulls it away.

"I'd snap your legs like twigs," Felix whispers in Josh's ear. "I would just love you bed-bound. It would be my dream come true, baby... the things I'd do to you..."

Josh hears Felix actually lick his lips and his gut suddenly twists. Josh thought his life was already a fate worse than death...somehow, it can get worse. He spins around to face Felix, eyes blown wide and sparkling - his lip wobbling like a small child.

It's a risk he's not willing to take. Any foolish bravery suddenly dissolves and his fight or flight suddenly switches off. Josh just feels empty.

He collapses into Felix's arms in a slump. His body rockets with sobs as Felix cradles him and smoothes the jet-black hair over his scalp.

"Sweet boy," Felix mumurs dotingly, "sweet, confused little boy. You know you belong with me, don't you?"

Josh nods miserably into Felix's chest.

"I'm the only one who knows you inside and out, who will take care of your every want and need. You'll never leave me, baby-blue."

[lovesickbaker]

You love me, don't you, darling? Surely, you must love me. There's not anyone else for you, so it's only natural, isn't it? After everything, you must know that you are mine, and you must love me as I love you, right? Right?

Don't break this poor heart of mine, darling, for I feel like I'm on the verge of insanity…

[crushingcasanova]

Let me rest with you. I want you to be the one I can turn to when I need to relax. I want to crave your presence as if it were home, a protection against the rest of the world. Let me long for you to be with me everywhere, to feel as if it is always the two of us against the world. Listen to my troubles and my worries and embrace them even if they seem stupid. I promise I’ll do the same for you. 

Let me lay my head on your lap as you run your fingers through my hair. Let me rest my head on your shoulder as you hold me close. Let me interlock our fingers and think that--even if only for that moment--everything will be okay. Let me cling onto you as my last lifeline, my biggest support, and my salvation. Let me be the same to you--I want to be all that you need too. 

I want you to be my safety, and I want to be yours. 

[urangelic-obsession]

[kit-williams]

Medical anon here! You can find my blog at medical-anon-whau on tumblr! (it is a side blog or I'd send you a message from there)

Yeah only issue with side blogs is that they can't send me things which is why im fine with ya'll keeping your anon titles.

I just need to say how thankful I am for the community of writers that accepted me into their ranks and how I've been able to foster others to write.

It feels amazing. And I literally have so many people to thank and you are just another person I have to thank who basically told me "I like the way you think! Here let me just give you more stuff to fantasize!"

And to all my anons and others who are interested in my little world I made. Ya'll are free to send me a DM if you have any questions about my headcanons if you need something that I haven't covered already.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

omg I hope we end up loving Kirtch!! he’s trying his best and his heart is so pure, I love him :) keep up the great work, you’re a very talented writer. thanks for sharing your work with us

Actual image of me whenever I open Tumblr

[ak319]

I absolutely love ur platonic yandere Arthur fic!!

Also I wanted to ask what would happen when a dangerous situation arose in the camp and reader got caught in the middle and gotten shot or had an injury because of it.

💌 Tysm for reading and the ask! This one surely has the potential to be fluff!

The fire crackled softly as you sipped your (tea/coffee), lost in thought. It was around 6 p.m., and Arthur, Dutch, and a few others had gone out on a heist. Though you dreaded the nature of their work, you still found yourself hoping everything went smoothly, if only to keep them safe. You hated the thought of praying for your brother's return at the expense of others’ losses, yet a part of you couldn’t help but wish that the innocent came away unscathed.

With most of the gang out, the camp was quieter than usual, leaving just you, Pearson, Hosea, Annabelle, and John by the fire. But the unexpected arrival of shadowy figures made your stomach twist, the O' Driscoll boys. Tensions with them had been escalating, and now they stood at the edge of the camp, their expressions dark and unyielding.

Annabelle gripped your arm, pulling you close. “Stay by me,” she whispered, as Hosea and Pearson stepped forward, attempting to keep the peace. John joined them, his hand twitching near his belt, and you grimaced, knowing his quick temper could easily escalate things.

“(Y/N), get to your tent!” Annabelle hissed urgently, her grip tightening on your arm. Her voice was low, almost a growl. You both being still unnoticed by the men feet away in the dark.

“What? I’m not leaving you here alone-”

“I can handle myself. You’re not ready for this, but here, take this,” she said, pressing a revolver into your hands. “Just in case.”

You hesitated, then ducked back toward your tent, heart pounding. Once inside, you doused the lantern and crouched in the shadows, revolver aimed at the tent’s entrance. Every muffled insult and tense laugh outside made your pulse race as you waited, breath held, bracing for whatever might come.

Then, gunshots rang out, mingling with the frantic neighs of horses. Shit. Shit. The situation had escalated. Agony twisted through you, both mentally and physically, as you sat there in the pitch dark, clueless about what was unfolding outside. Your lips moved in silent prayers, hoping for everyone’s safety and Arthur’s swift return.

The tent flap flew open, and Annabelle’s distinct shout of protest echoed outside. You recoiled as a man stepped in, his eyes flashing with surprise when they landed on you. Before he could react, you squeezed the trigger without hesitation. The bullet struck his thigh, and he doubled over with a furious growl of pain.

"AGH! You bitch!" He lunged forward, and the man’s weight crashed onto you, knocking the air from your lungs. "Little rat," he snarled through the pain, his hands gripping your wrists with bruising force, forcing the revolver from your fingers. Panic clawed at you as you struggled beneath him, desperate to twist free. You kicked hard, aiming for his injured thigh, and he grunted, momentarily loosening his grip and punching your face twice in return.

"You got some nerve...maybe we can just take you with us."

Taking advantage of his distraction, you managed to wrestle one hand free and clawed at his face, your nails digging into his cheek. He cursed, reeling back, but his fist connected sharply with your ribs, sending a fiery shock of pain through your side. You gasped, the sound cut short as he pressed down harder, his hand fumbling for the revolver between you.

You thrashed, trying to pry the gun from his grip, both of you wrestling for control. Your fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the revolver, and you tugged with all your might. But then, with a deafening crack, the gun went off, and pain seared through your shoulder as the bullet tore into you.

The shock overtook you first, numbness washing over your arm before the agony settled in, hot and blinding. The world spun as you gasped, fighting to stay conscious, but the weight of him bore down, and the pain was almost unbearable. Then a second shot resounded but this one targeted the man, killing him and his body instantly falling over, half of his body still on you.

"HEY! Oh, God! Ms. ANNABELLE! (Y/N) has been shot!" John shouted as he crouched beside you and soon Annabelle entered, the silence outside indicated that maybe it had ended, but you didn't have the strength to ask, your mind focused on the pain and the trauma of what had just occurred, making you lose your senses. Dimly, you heard Annabelle’s frantic voice somewhere outside the tent, yelling for help, but the darkness started to close in, dragging you under.

⋆⋆⋆

When Arthur returned to camp along with Dutch, Charles and Sean, he didn't even imagine that his day would end like this. That he would hear about an attack on the camp and that too when they weren't here, when he wasn't here. The happiness that had enveloped him due to the successful heist had diminished in a flick of a wrist, and on top of that, he got informed of what had happened with…you.

Arthur’s jaw clenched as he watched you lying there, fragile and bruised beneath Annabelle’s watchful gaze. The fury rising within him was unlike anything he’d felt before, a white-hot rage that blazed through every fibre of his being. It was one thing for these men to skirmish with him and the gang, to take potshots or swipe supplies. But this… this was different. They’d targeted the heart of his camp. They’d come after you, knowing full well you were defenseless. And that, he swore, would be the last mistake they'd ever make.

"She's…fine. She will be. I wanted to take her to the clinic but decided against it as it still might be unsafe out there so, I treated her here…"

He barely heard Annabelle’s voice as she spoke, her words filtering in slowly through the storm in his mind. Each shallow breath you took sounded louder to him than the gunfire he’d just come from. His fists balled tightly, his nails biting into his palms as his focus honed to a single thought, revenge.

Arthur spun around, his boots thudding heavily on the ground as he headed for the stables. He was blind to the concerned glances cast his way, blind to the way Dutch and Hosea turned in alarm as he tore through the camp with a single, furious purpose.

“Arthur! Where the hell you off to now?!” Dutch’s voice broke through the clamor of his rage, but Arthur didn’t slow down.

"Going to settle the score." He’d take every one of those bastards down, one by one if he had to. They’d pay for what they’d done, for the way they’d left you, his only real family, his anchor, his one solace in a life torn apart by violence. They attacked his fucking honour.

Arthur mounted his horse and gave Dutch a final look over his shoulder, his eyes fierce and dark with purpose. Without another word, he dug his heels in, spurring his horse into a gallop as he disappeared into the night, bound for blood.

Dutch watched him go, an uneasy grimace crossing his face. “Charles, go after him. Make sure he don’t do something stupid.”

Charles nodded grimly and saddled up. But even he knew there’d be no talking Arthur down tonight.

⋆⋆⋆

After wiping out the small hideout , which didn't take too long to find anyway. He came back and since then, he remained by your side, dismissing Annabelle.

Arthur sat close, his presence solid and grounding as if he could shield you from anything else that might harm you. His eyes, though softened now, held the shadows of all he’d gone through, the remnants of his own silent terror. He looked down at your hand, opening it with a gentleness that almost felt out of place.

It took him so much to bury the fear, of nearly losing you.

The one whose mischievous giggles annoyed him when you stole and hid his hat.

The one he showed his sketches to.

The one who tended to his wounds.

The only one who could bring that hint of his mother’s cooking.

“Here,” he murmured, pulling a small box from his pocket. “A gift.”

You blinked, lifting your gaze from your lap, a glint of curiosity breaking through your daze. He opened the box to reveal a simple yet precious pearl set, mirroring something he saw in you. But there was no escaping the knowledge of its likely origin, and you felt an old, familiar discomfort creeping up.

Before you could protest, he placed the box firmly in your hand, fingers closing over it in a silent insistence.

“It’s…I-”

“Shush. It’s yours.” He didn’t let you finish. It was the same line he always used, the one that seemed to erase the shadows of guilt whenever he brought you something from the spoils of his risky life, whether it be fruits, snacks or clothes.

“T-thank you,” you whispered, his rare smile easing some of the ache.

“I… I’m just so glad you’re safe,” he said, his voice rough as he squeezed your hand as if steadying himself as much as you. “I don’t even want to think…”

“This was bound to happen someday,” you managed to croak out, your voice scratchy yet resigned.

“No! No, it wasn't!” he argued, the tension in his voice unmistakable as he brushed a lock of hair from your face, his hand holding you steady. “I feel like… hell, like I let you down, and that just… just eats at me. I’m sorry, Chumchum." He knew that nickname annoyed you, but this time, it made you crack a smile. His grip tightened, and he leaned in, a promise in his silence, vowing to keep you safe at any cost.

“Not… your fault,” you murmured, voice faint but steady. “I’m… fine now.” Arthur nodded, a glimmer of relief in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around you in a gentle, side hug and placed a soft kiss on top of your head, careful to not cause you pain at the same time, holding you close as to make himself believe that you were here, safe and in the shelter of his arms. The warmth of his shoulder offered you a comfort you didn’t realize you’d been aching for, and before you knew it, you were crying softly, letting the weight of everything slip away against him. At that moment, he felt like a mixture of all the care you’d ever known, both fierce and gentle. Parental even.

"Don't worry, I fuckin took care of those bastards, did worse than what they did to you, won't even think of coming here ever again. Assholes." He was trying to comfort you in his own way, and somehow, this time, it worked.

For days afterwards, he hovered like a mother hen, fussing over every detail of your recovery. He made sure you rested, brought meals to your cot to feed you, and sat nearby for quiet company, even engaging in lighthearted bickering. And when he noticed the tension, took you for walks or even rides to town, be it the theatre or the circus. Whatever you wanted.

It felt so warm, like a blanket you hadn’t known you’d been missing until it was wrapped around you again. You saw how much he tried, how fiercely he watched over you, going out of his way to keep you steady. And in a way, you felt proud of him, too. You knew that, beneath the hardened shell of a man shaped by gunpowder and grit, he was still your brother.

(AN: Kay fun fact, so in English, Chum is like a petname, but in my language, Chumchum is the name of a sweet/dessert, lol.)

[break-a-neck]

I got these weeks(?) Ago how do I even respond

[mightbemars]

sweethearts... please don't spoil me too much! wasn't it 50 just now? ( ◜ω◝و(و "

I'm happy to welcome you all to my cave of depravity and darkness. please stay as long as you'd like.

more yandere content soon.

[oddsconvert]

How would Felix react to Josh getting stuck in a coma? (Probably from Felix's punishments)

Ohmy, I LOVE this question!!! 👀😍

Pure panic. He'd be stuck in the the in-between of unadulterated terror and crippling denial.

For a day or so, he'd try and nurse Josh back to health. Felix would be perched by Josh's bedside night and day. Tucking him in, holding his hand and whispering sweet nothings, begging him to wake up. Felix wouldn't sleep, wouldn't eat - he'd just watch Josh and try over and over to wake him.

Then desperation would set in. When he realises Josh isn't waking up and that this time, it's deadly serious. He'd call for backup - his goons friends. He'd be left with no option but the hospital, but how could he ever do that? He wouldn't be able to stay with Josh. Eyes would turn to Felix the second he carried Josh in, just skin and bones, littered with bruises and scars. And how could he ever think of abandoning the love of his life?

So, I think either Felix's hubris would get the best of him, and he'd refuse to get Josh medical help and would keep him...no matter what happens. Or maybe he would dump Josh at the hospital, possibly with the intention of snatching him back down the line 👀

[bigbuffjoonie]

SCREAMS

Okay now that I’m more normal, this fic was so thrilling! Going through the mountain pass I was holding my breath too! The feeling of dread just building up until The Splashes just -chef kiss-!! Loved everything about this and I cannot wait to see pt 2! 💕

The Obsidian Pearl (I)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 7.2k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

“Captain, this is a bad idea.”

A hush falls over the deck, a few whispers being passed back and forth between the crew as they watch you challenge the captain’s decision. There’s an audible gulp somewhere behind you as the captain pins you with a hard gaze, his jaw clenched tight with annoyance.

He taps the map that’s spread out in front of him, voice leaving no room for argument as he says, “This is the fastest route.”

“That may be, Captain, but it’s not worth the risk. Haven’t you heard the stories? The numerous crews that have gone missing after sailing in this area? There’s a reason it’s called The Dead Man’s passage!”

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