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ak319 · 2 months ago

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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.)

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yanaleese · 8 days ago

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A Karma and MC Christmas

MC's Turn:

Dear Karma,

As your creator, I love you so much. You've truly been the star of the show on this blog. I am glad to know that my followers enjoy your presence - and most of all, I love drawing you. I hope you and MC enjoyed your Christmas day AND belated Happy Birthday, and I look forward to seeing you both in 2025.

Dear Eunsung,

Although I haven't drawn you as much (I'm lazy sorry), I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. I look forward to cuddling, drawing and transforming you into the beautiful star you are in 2025. I love you my wonderful dumpling <3

Dear Readers,

To all who has viewed this tale, thank you for taking the time to read my comics, my plot, and the asks that come through. I hope you all had a Merry Christmas, and I hope to see you all and many more for 2025. Thanks again for sticking on this rollercoaster of a blog.

See you in the next post!

Yanaleese

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yanicide · 13 days ago

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YANDERE ASK GAME — RELIGIOUS IMAGERY EDITION. ✞

1. The Chosen One—What first drew you(or what would draw you) to your darling/yandere, your divine figure? Their power, their beauty, or the way they make you feel like their sole worshipper? Something else entirely?

2. Unholy Obsession—What’s the one “sin” you’ve committed(or would commit) that you know your darling/yandere would punish you for, yet you can’t stop doing?

3. Sacrificial Lamb—If your darling/yandere demanded a sacrifice to prove your love, what would you willingly give up? Your freedom? A friendship? Your soul? Something else entirely?

4. The Forbidden Scripture—What’s the darkest thing you’ve learned about your darling/yandere that they don’t want anyone else to know? Is there any circumstance you'd speak it aloud?

5. The Forbidden Scripture II—What’s the darkest thing about yourself that you don’t want anyone else to know? Would you tell your darling/yandere?

5. Martyr Complex—Would you willingly endure pain or suffering for your darling/yandere? If so, what’s the worst thing you’d let them do to you?

6. Martyr Complex II—Would you inflict pain or suffering on your darling/yandere? If so, what’s the worst thing you’d do to them?

6. Divine Punishment—If you caught caught your darling/yandere looking at someone else, how do you think you'd cleanse their sinful thoughts?

7. Divine Punishment II—If your yandere/darling caught you looking at someone else, how would you want them to cleanse your sinful thoughts?

8. Eternal Devotion—What’s the most extreme thing you’d be willing to do to prove that they're yours—and yours alone?

9. The Jealous God—How would you react when others try to steal your darling/yandere's attention? Do you lash out at the intruder, or at them?

10. The Cult of Two—You insist on isolating your darling/yandere from the corruption of others. What do you tell them to justify this holy union and convince them to agree?

11. Divine Wrath—What’s one thing you’d never do, even if your darling/yandere demanded it?

12. Idol or Idoliser—Do you see your darling/yandere as a godlike figure, or would you prefer being their godlike figure and having the control over their obsession?

13. Sacred Vows—If they asked you to swear your eternal loyalty to them, what would that promise look like? What length would you go to prove it to them?

14. Holy War—Your darling/yandere has declared war on anyone who takes up an ounce of your attention. How do you respond to their violent, possessive nature?

15. The Divine Addiction—What is it about your darling/yandere that you can’t seem to resist, no matter how dangerous they are?

16. Angel or Demon—Does your darling/yandere see themselves as your saviour or your captor? Which do you see them as?

17. The Forbidden Relic—You give them an object you claim holds your love and protection. What is it?

18. Revelation—What’s the one moment that made you realise their “divine love” was more dangerous than holy? Did you run, or did you stay?

19.. Revelation II—Is there anything about your “divine love” that is more dangerous than holy?

20. The Final Judgement—Your darling/yandere has defied your will. How do you deliver divine retribution? Can they convince you to forgive them?

21. The Holy Vision—You appear in your darling/yandere’s dream, telling them something cryptic. What do you say?

22. The Eternal Confession—What’s something you would never admit to your darling/yandere, knowing they might not forgive you?

23. The False Prophet—Someone warns you about your darling, calling them dangerous or unholy. How do you respond?

24. The Blessed Lie—What’s a comforting lie you'd tell your darling/yandere to make them stay by your side?

25. The Prayer of Possession—Your darling prays for you. What do you want them to say?

26. The Prayer of Possession II—You pray for your darling/yandere. What do you say to them?

27. The Sacred Cage—Your darling/yandere locks you away to protect you from the outside world. What’s your ideal place like, and do you believe it’s truly for your safety?

28. The Sacred Cage II—You lock away your darling/yandere to protect them from the outside world. What’s the place like?

29. The Divine Mark—You want to give your darling/yandere a mark or symbol of your love—etched into their body, their mind, or their soul. What form does it take?

30. The Idol’s Devotion—If you feared losing your darling/darling, what lengths would you go to make them stay?

31. The Apostle’s Betrayal—What would happen if your darling/yandere betrayed you? How do you imagine you’d react?

#120 followers.#I see you all.#Sorry if this is shit.#But thank you.#yandere asks #ask game #yanblr #yandere community #actually yandere #yandere #yan blog #yandere ask game #yandere core #male yandere #yandere blog

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b1tchyboyxd · 5 months ago

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★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

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oddsconvert · 8 months ago

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"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."

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lovesickbaker · 1 year ago

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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…

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crushingcasanova · 8 months ago

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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.

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urangelic-obsession · 5 months ago

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kit-williams · 9 months ago

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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.

#reply #answer #all my anons #i am legit blessed #for the people who have decided they like my vibes #who decided that 'yeah i like her writing'#for the people here for my yanderes #and the people here for my husbandry #i haven't had this sense of belonging since i was deep in the halo community in college #there i also was writing stuff like this #thank you all for letting me write #for letting me cook so to speak #idk if i can say thank you enough #momrad being sentimental #also thanks for everyone being cool with me mom posting and gushing about dadatar

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ak319 · 2 months ago

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i hope this one is different so you dont think it's repetitive... arthur become jealous whenever (teen?) reader show affection/politeness to the members of van der linde gang!! she is so kind and caring, it's like arthur gave all of his positive emotions to her.

i hope you're not too overwhelmed <3

(AN: It was fun to write this, lmao, and I'm good, thanks for asking! <3<3)

Warnings: Not incest, strictly platonic, fluff

Arthur stretched, savoring the cool evening breeze as he woke from his afternoon nap. Rubbing his eyes, he scanned the camp, noticing some of the boys lounging around, and then his gaze fell on you. You were nestled beside Hosea, who was explaining something, gesturing with a worn book in hand. The two of you looked deep in conversation, and Arthur’s jaw tightened just a touch.

Of course. You and Hosea with those endless stories.

Arthur strolled over, trying to keep his voice casual. “(Y/n)... my coffee?”

You looked up, blinking as if you’d just noticed him. “It’s in the pot.”

“So?”

“So… go get it?” You turned back to Hosea without a second thought, the two of you picking up right where you left off, as if Arthur wasn’t even there.

Arthur’s mouth opened in slight disbelief. So he’s gotta get it himself now? Is that how it is? He clearly saw you serving one to Hosea before he went to nap.

He stomped over to the coffee pot, pouring a little too forcefully, spilling half of it over the side. Huffing, he took a bitter sip, casting a sidelong glare at you and Hosea. You were still engrossed, nodding eagerly as Hosea continued his storytelling, clearly delighted by the attention.

You, Hosea, and those books. Why didn’t you tell him stories like that, like when you were little, always rambling on about what you’d read or about anything? He couldn’t help thinking, Maybe if he’d acted interested back then…Even now, both of you barely chatted ever since settling here.

Determined to stake his claim, he grabbed a chair, dragging it loudly across the ground until he was right in front of you both. He plopped down with his coffee, not budging.

You and Hosea paused, exchanging a look as Arthur sat there, arms crossed, expression defiant. He took a loud sip, smirking a bit. “What? Go on, I’m only listenin’. ”

Hosea chuckled, giving you a gentle nudge to continue, but Arthur’s smirk softened as he watched you. He wasn’t about to let anyone else claim his spot as the one you looked up to, even if he had to work for it sometimes.

⋆⋆⋆

“Charles, here, I bought it,” you said, holding out a small glass bottle.

Charles put down his dagger, inspecting the vial with a pleased nod. “Hm, thanks, (Y/n). This’ll be really helpful. I'll be sure to use it.”

Before Charles could say much else, Arthur’s gun clattered down onto the table, his gaze zeroed in on the bottle in his hand. “Woah, woah, what is that?”

You folded your arms, already anticipating his reaction. “It’s rosemary oil. It’s good for hair, you know? I use it too, and Charles was complaining about hair fall. You should use it too Arthur.”

Arthur’s eyebrow shot up, his lips pressing together as he rolled his eyes and resumed cleaning his gun. Hair oil? Really? He bit back a scoff, the faint irritation simmering in his expression. The things you’d done for Charles lately, you were really taking him being your 'other brother' thing too seriously, acting like he was the camp’s best friend and personal confidant. More like 'other better brother' at this point.

"My hair's fine." He pouted which was subtle enough for both of you to miss.

Maybe you thought Charles was better than him somehow. Was it because of his hair? Arthur’s eyes flicked over to Charles’s neatly braided locks and he bristled, pushing away that little jab of jealousy. Those braids were another evidence of your craft and experiments on him.

“By the way, Charles-" you started.

Arthur snapped up, feigning nonchalance as he muttered, “What’re you askin’ him now, huh? Got another herbal concoction to fuss over or a new hairstyle?”

“Actually,” you continued, ignoring his tone, “I was thinking Charles could teach me some tracking. Thought it’d be useful when you sometimes take me to hunt.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened slightly. He tried to play it cool, returning to his gun, but not before muttering, “Right… and just let me know when you’re done with all that ‘learnin’. Don’t need you forgettin’ your real chores now, got it?” You huffed slightly in reply, embarrassed and stomped away. He seemed to love bringing up your damn chores.

⋆⋆⋆

You peeked through the tent flap, hesitating slightly before stepping in. Arthur lay back on his cot, one knee propped up as he casually read through his journal. The sight of him looking so calm made your stomach twist just a bit, this wasn’t the look of someone who called you in for a friendly chat.

“Arthur… you called?” you asked cautiously, stepping inside.

He didn’t even look up, but you could sense the tension in his posture. “What is up with what I heard?”

You chuckled nervously, playing innocent. “Heard what?”

Finally, he glanced at you, setting his journal aside. "Feeding Kieran. An O’Driscoll, for God’s sake, and a captive one at that. You think that’s a good idea? Are you nuts?!”

You folded your arms, barely batting an eye. “What, we’re just gonna starve him to death in camp? That’s a great plan,” you said, throwing a glance toward Dutch’s tent with an exaggerated scowl.

Arthur caught the look, his gaze hardening. "Hey, don’t go blaming Dutch for making sense. You think Kieran’s just some stray dog? He’s a danger, and feeding him, treating him like… like one of us, it just ain’t wise.”

"But Mary- Beth did it too, why didn't-"

"I don't care what she did! I am talkin' to you right now! Also, she only gave him water while you served a damn feast to his ass. So, you...listen to me. Got it?" Not your fault that you cooked well and wanted everyone to have a taste. Poor guy was dying out there just from the smell of it.

“But why?” you retorted, the fire in your voice undeniable. “You’re all acting like he’s gonna break loose and take us all down with a spoon. He’s tied up. He's a person, Arthur, not a monster. And maybe, just maybe, if everyone here wasn’t so fast to turn people into enemies, half of this mess wouldn’t even exist! This isn't what mother taught us, Arthur.”

Arthur’s expression shifted from anger to something deeper, like a storm passing over. “Don't bring her into this! This is a different life from what we came from, why do you keep insisting upon those memories?” His voice softened but kept its edge. “And that big heart of yours? It’ll get you hurt if you’re not careful. I don’t want to be pulling you outta trouble because you’re tryin’ to see the good in a damn O’Driscoll. Now, are we clear?”

You stared back at him, the defiance slipping just a little as you noticed the strain in his eyes. Beneath his anger was worry, and for a moment, you softened too.

“Fine, fine, I made a mistake, apparently, and I’ll stay clear of him,” you mumbled. Being human here seems to be a crime.

⋆⋆⋆

You walked into the camp’s small, makeshift office, the familiar smell of paper and ink in the air. Strauss was hunched over a pile of bills and coins, his glasses perched precariously on his nose as he jotted down figures. His furrowed brow and concentration didn’t go unnoticed.

"Hey, Strauss," you called out softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up, adjusting his glasses as a small smile appeared on his face. “Ah, (Y/n), good to see you. Just trying to get these numbers in order, but it’s a bit too much for one pair of hands.”

You moved closer, casually offering your assistance. “Mind if I help?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’d be willing to help count all this?”

“Sure,” you replied, already rolling up your sleeves. “Looks like you’ve got a lot on your hands.”

Strauss chuckled softly, clearly appreciative. “I suppose that’s why I always need help with these things. It’s too much to do alone, even for someone as meticulous as me.”

You settled next to him, carefully picking up a stack of bills and sorting them by denomination. The coins came next, their jingling noise filling the air as you organized them into neat little piles. Strauss watched, impressed by how quickly and efficiently you worked, and before long, everything was sorted and ready to be counted.

“By my word, (Y/n), you’ve done this faster than I could’ve hoped,” he said, adjusting his glasses again, his tone warm with praise. “It’s quite clear you have an eye for details.”

You smiled, grateful for the compliment. “I’ve had some practice.”

Strauss leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. Then, with a slight flourish, he pulled a few bills from the pile and handed them to you. “As a token of my appreciation, take this,” he said, his voice warm. “A few dollars for your help. I think you’ve earned it.”

"No, no , please, no need for this. Thank you, though."

"C'mon, kid, like I said you earned it or just think of it as a gift."

You kept politely declining him but he forced the cash in your hand and the flap of the tent suddenly opened, and Arthur stepped inside, his boots thudding loudly against the floor as his eyes immediately narrowed at the scene.

Ugh.

"You givin' her a loan or something, Strauss?" He threw you a sharp look. You were well aware that he didn't appreciate you asking others for things.

"It’s not like that!" you snapped, already feeling your frustration building. “I helped him, that’s all. I didn’t ask for anything, Arthur. I wasn’t even about to take it!”

Arthur’s expression didn’t soften. In one swift motion, he turned back to the desk, and without a second thought, he placed the money you had been holding, still in your hand, back onto the table. He dropped it with a bit more force than necessary, the sound of it clinking harshly against the wood "Well, like I said, no need," he muttered, his voice polite but edged with an authority that suggested he just wanted to end the conversation. “Let’s go.”

You stumbled slightly as he nudged you toward the door. "You takin' handouts from him? Don't I give you enough pocket money already?" Arthur’s voice was tight with disapproval as he guided you out of the small room, his fingers almost too firm on your arm.

You shook your head, refusing to let the tension get the best of you. "Oh my God, he was just being nice, you damn well know I am not like that!" you muttered, glancing back at Strauss, who had returned to his work, probably already regretting offering you anything at all. "I didn’t ask for anything."

Arthur huffed, his mood sour. “And never do. I don’t trust that man with money.” He gave you a quick, pointed look as he nudged you forward, his steps quick and purposeful. “Go do somethin' else. Get out of here, kid. I don’t want to see you dealin’ with him.”

You bit back the sharp retort that formed on your lips. Instead, you let out a sigh, recognizing the stubbornness in your brother’s tone. “Fine. I’m going. Jeez,” you muttered, feeling a little put out as you walked away, already knowing this conversation wasn’t going to be the last of it.

⋆⋆⋆

Arthur nearly choked as he took another bite of the stew, his throat burning with the intense heat. He quickly grabbed his canteen, taking a few desperate gulps, trying to quench the fiery sensation that was assaulting him. What the hell was this? He wiped his mouth, glaring at the bowl like it personally offended him. What the fuck…

His hand slammed the canteen back down onto the table, and he stomped over to Pearson’s cooking station, frustration bubbling up inside him. “Why the hell is this so spicy?!”

Pearson looked up with a nonchalant grin, clearly unbothered by Arthur’s indignation. “It is? I think it’s scrumptious. Plus, (Y/N) cooked it, some Mexican recipe. Javier was feeling a little down today, so I thought I’d let her make it for him...cheer him up a bit.”

Javier, huh? Arthur’s blood began to simmer with something far more heated than the stew he just choked down. His jaw tightened as he turned on his heel and stormed towards you, who was happily swinging under the tree, carefree and unaware of the storm brewing in your brother’s chest.

"If he’s sad, does that mean you get to give me an ulcer?!" Arthur’s voice cracked like thunder, cutting through the air. “What, did you pour the whole damn bottle of chilies in this thing?”

You rolled your eyes without missing a beat and kept swinging like a kid, not even bothering to look at him as you kicked your legs lazily, enjoying the gentle breeze. “You’re being dramatic. Everyone licked their fingers clean. Even Molly liked it."

Arthur’s face contorted with disbelief as he approached you, the irritation in his veins flaring up like wildfire. Everyone? Of course. Everyone loved what you made. How could they not? You were sweet, and everything you did, even if it caused chaos, seemed to be met with nothing but approval. It’s a strange cycle, really, if you think about it. You’ve got this sweetness about you that makes it impossible for anyone to complain, even when you’re walking all over boundaries, like cooking up some wild, fiery dish for Javier. No one says a word, not even when you turn the camp upside down, because they’re all too afraid of making you upset, or worse, 'messing with Arthur's sister'.

And that’s when it gets tricky for him. All this unspoken leniency has slowly given you free rein, a field to roam in, and it’s hurting him in ways he can’t even explain. It's like you've unknowingly got the upper hand, and every little thing you do chips away at his patience, even when you’re just being you.

His lips curled into a hard, annoyed frown, and he leaned in close, voice low and harsh. “You listen here, brat," he growled, irritation lacing every word. "I’ve had a long day, and I damn well deserve a proper meal when I come back.”

Before you could even respond, Javier appeared from behind, sensing the rising tension between you two. He flashed a grin and confidently strolled over, his voice smooth and cheerful as he clapped his hands together. “Ah, but hermano Arthur,” Javier teased in his thick accent, completely unfazed by the tension. “Maybe it is not the food that is the problem, hmm? Maybe it’s your taste buds that need some...adjusting.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed, his temper threatening to snap. He was about to retaliate when Javier continued, his voice warm and inviting.

“No no,” Javier continued, ignoring Arthur’s scowl entirely. “(Y/N)'s cooking is the best here. Nobody can do it quite like she can.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head, but part of you could feel the tension between them rise, even if it wasn’t entirely apparent to you, "Oh , it's nothing really."

As Arthur glared at you, his frustration mounting with every word that left your mouth, Javier, ever the peacekeeper and always with a grin on his face, flashed his usual cheeky smile, and before either of you could say anything, he burst into song, his deep voice carrying through the air with effortless charm. The dulcet tone of the guitar was sweet to you, yet bitter to Arthur.

“Oh, (Y/N), who brings the light,

To the fire, and to the night,

His voice was smooth, almost theatrical as he continued, completely ignoring the scowl Arthur was throwing his way.

“The stew you make, so full of spice,

Turns every frown to something nice,

And though it burns, we can’t resist,

The magic in your tender twist...”

Arthur muttered under his breath. "You better stop singing before I lose my damn mind," he grumbled, but his voice was laced with an unmistakable irritation that he couldn’t quite hide, even if he tried.

Javier finished his song with a flourish, giving you a playful wink as he stepped back, clearly proud of his impromptu performance. “And that, mi amiga, is a little song of thanks,” he said, his grin wide, while he sauntered away while Arthur bore daggers at his back.

Arthur turned back to you, arms folded tightly over his chest as he narrowed his eyes. “Was that all a silly prank of yours or something?” he asked, his tone stiff with a mix of irritation and jealousy.

You, however, couldn’t hold back the laughter. The ridiculousness of it all was just too much. You burst into a guffaw, your shoulders shaking with amusement, and the sound was enough to disarm Arthur, just a little.

You looked up at him, barely able to contain your grin. “Depends…” you teased, still giggling, making it worse for Arthur.

Arthur’s scowl deepened, but only for a moment. When he saw that sparkle in your eyes and how you couldn’t stop smiling, he felt a soft tug at his heart. "Kid, you’re a menace for real," he muttered, the words half-hearted, even though he was secretly relieved to see you happy in this new life.

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