#yandere gang

[banj0possum]

Yoooo, what are you waiting for it's gangussy time 😡😡 😡😡😡😡

(This is a joke please please please take care of yourself first for the love of whoever is up there don't overwork yourself 🙏 )

Utmost Loyalty

Yan!Gang x GN Reader

no warnings that i know of, theyre just really really stupid

🐉 The grocery you usually go to was closed early for the day, poor you had to walk the 2 miles to the nearest store in order to buy the stuff you needed for the week.

🐉 Living alone was hard work. You worked an exhausting 9 to 5 job that barely provided for your tiny apartment and pet (and your endless merch of your favorite franchise)

🐉 You were already tired from working today, and now you have to walk an extra 2 miles to get groceries you may or may not be able to afford because you never went to said grocery store before??

🐉 The grocery was in a pretty sketchy part of the city, with the smell of car exhaust and cigarettes lingering everywhere that you had to cover your nose to evade the scent.

🐉 You quickly went in the store and breathed in deeply, thankfully the store didn't smell so bad.

🐉 Besides than you, there were only 2 other people, the store owner and someone in a black suit eating some instant noodles.

🐉 You went to work trying to find all the stuff you need on your list. Coffee, fruits and veggies, snacks, and maybe some chocolate as a treat for yourself~

🐉 You pay for your things, unfortunately unable to afford the chocolates, and leave the store.

🐉 aaaaand now its raining...

🐉 You rush to the nearest cover, trying to cover the paper bag full of your groceries before hearing labored breathing from the alley you passed.

🐉 You stop and look back to see a man hunched over, his back to the wall as he winced at a wound he had on his torso that stained his white buttoned up shirt. He looked to have come from a fight..

🐉 You gasp, almost dropping your groceries. His golden eyes dart over to you and glare at your meek form.

🐉 "What're you lookin at?" he growls.

🐉 "You're..bleeding- You're bleeding!!" You start to panic.

🐉 "Yeah no shit I'm bleeding! What the fuck do you want?!"

🐉 You scramble away from the man in the alley frightened and freaked out. Out of instinct, you return to the store and ask where the first aid items are.

🐉 Kagiri sighed, trying his best to hold on while waiting for his gang to arrive and help him out. He just had to be strong. He can get through this. He can do it! He doesn't need anyone!

🐉 "Sorry! I'm back!"

🐉 goddamnit..

🐉 He grumbles at your presence but then realizes you have two bags and not one like you had recently. You put down your groceries and take a few stuff out of the other bag. Band-Aids..gauze..sanitizer..what's going on??

🐉 "What are you doing?" He asks in a threatening voice.

🐉 You don't say anything, you focus on trying to patch up his wounds, asking him a few things once in a while like "can you lift your arm please?" or "unbutton your shirt a bit.."

🐉 And he let you..for some reason...

🐉 He went from growling to staring silently at you while you worked on bandaging his wounds, like a feral dog being pet for the first time.

🐉 Now he managed to get a good look at you. You were quite cute, and it looked like you just got off work from the attire you were wearing. Your hands were so soft compared to his calloused ones, and your eyes..one look from you and even the toughest mafia boss will melt from how comforting they are..

🐉 And before he knows it, you've finished and were apologizing profusely to him for butting in on his situation, he was gonna say something else but you ran off.

🐉 You finally arrive back at your apartment, your pet cat rubbing against you as you lock your door. You smile and pick her up about to ramble about the hectic day you had until you realize..

🐉 You picked up your cat..

🐉 Your hands were free prior..

🐉 YOU LEFT YOUR GROCERIES!!

🐉 Silence fills the room before you let out a pitiful sob. Scolding yourself for forgetting your groceries with that mysterious guy, all that money and fresh food wasted! Your cat tries to lick your face to calm you down.

🐉 You pace around the room trying to figure out what to do now until a knock on your door is heard.

🐉 You open the door but there was no one there, but you see two men hastily and quite loudly scramble their way down the stairs giggling like middle schoolers. Did two grown men really ding dong ditch you??

🐉 You sigh and go to close the door, but your cat meows and trots outside and you look down to see her paw at a bag full of groceries..what?!

🐉 All your groceries were there, plus some extra cans of food, wrapped onigiri..your chocolates? and it wasn't in a dull paper bag anymore, it was in a black tote bag with a gold insignia of a sea serpent.

🐉 You didn't dare question it, considering the looks of the man who helped you and the part of town you were in, he was likely part of some gang and wanted to thank you.

🐉 But it didn't stop there...

🐉 You felt like you were being watched every time you were outside..no, it wasn't a feeling, THEY WERE LITERALLY RIGHT OUT IN THE OPEN WATCHING YOU.

🐉 It didn't take a genius to spot them. You started noticing newcomers to the places you frequented. Like in a cafe that was fairly quiet and cozy, there were about 5 men dressed in blazers with some kind of flashy undershirt and gelled up hair at the very back of the establishment.

🐉 They didn't do a good job trying to hide the fact they were watching you with a newspaper.

🐉 It freaked you out, but you tried your best to ignore them.

🐉 But it was hard to do that when they started talking to you..

🐉 "Excuse me, you dropped your wallet.." you turn around and almost stumble over the tall intimidating man right behind you meekly handing you back your wallet.

🐉 You take it back with a shaky hand and waddle away trying not to look back.

🐉 If you did, you'd see the big burly man absolutely blushing and squealing as a few other men giddily walk up to him, showing a video of the encounter you just had from across the street.

🐉 There was also the time you caught them staring dreamily at you when they saw that you started using the tote bag with the serpect symbol as your office bag, it was a pretty nice bag and you didn't want it to just lie around your house..

🐉 And that one co-worker who's kind of a creep? Never messed with you again. You caught a glimpse of them shivering over the symbol on your bag.

🐉 Not to mention boxes of groceries that show up at your door all wrapped up in a red bow, they still haven't learned to be more silent when dropping those off..

🐉 After a bit you start to recognize some of them from their haircuts or the jewelry they always have on them. It made you more curious as to what their deal was.

🐉 So you decided to search up online with the insignia on the tote bag as your first clue.

🐉 You find out that its the symbol for a local gang that dealt with all kinds of stuff, robbery, misconduct, public damage..mostly public damage..

🐉 You manage to find a photo of all of them, you recognize the man in the center. It was the guy you saw in the alley way..

🐉 Connecting all the dots, you somehow got the protection of a gang because you patched up their wounded boss..great..

🐉 The next day you spot a few of the gang members again but instead of ignoring them, you give them a small wave before heading off the work. They were left stunned with a story to tell the others that'll make them squeal like little girls.

🐉 They started becoming less and less distant from you.

🐉 From watching you across the street to making small talk about the prices of fruits at the store.

🐉 One by one the gang gets a special moment with you, they were small mundane moments, but they treasured them like a core memory.

🐉 Word finally got to the boss that you've been very close with them lately, and he decides it's time to confront you.

🐉 As usual, a knock is heard at your door, and you see them clumsily run away, leaving a box of groceries behind..you should probably tell them you have a doorbell.

🐉 But it wasn't a box of groceries, it was full of heart shaped chocolates, sweet pink sweets and about 3 stuffed bears, topped up with a bouquet of flowers, as well as a note. You bring the box in and read small card.

🐉 Dear Mx. L/N, please go to this address tomorrow at 6pm. Don't be late. Please.

🐉 You can see words like 'We love you' and 'Have a nice evening' and 'we cant wait' messily scribbled out.

🐉 You arrive at the location at the designated time and look around.

🐉 The place they wrote in was a fancy looking restaurant that looked like the only thing you could afford was the water..

🐉 You're escorted to a table in a private room. You can hear the muffled noises of men giggling and talking before you enter and they all quiet down. It was quite intimidating to see them all in the same room, but the scariest part was seeing the boss; Kagiri, sitting in the center.

🐉 A little Siamese cat with big yellow eyes mewls at you and you pet it. It jumps up to you and purrs on your lap. Around his neck is a red collar with a gold nametag with the serpent symbol engraved on it, and on the back read 'Unagi'. You hear the men awe softly at the sight of the boss' cat getting along with their darling idol

🐉 Kagiri stands up and smiles at you warmly and by warmly I mean he looks terrifying

🐉 "It's nice to see you again. I never got to formally thank you for what you done to me." he lifts up his shirt a bit to reveal his healed wound which faded into a scar.

🐉 You nervously say you're welcome and shake his hand, you can't help but notice him shiver over your touch.

🐉 He invites you to sit down and eat and you spend the night having dinner and talking with the gang.

🐉 They try their best to impress you, sitting up straight, puffing out their chests, deepening their voices..

🐉 It almost seems like they were competing for your attention.

🐉 Once dinner was over, Kagiri speaks up "Now, about our meeting, we've been meaning to ask you something." he says gently.

🐉 The large man walks over to you and takes your hand and kneeling..what whats happening..

🐉 "Y/N L/N..will you be our new boss?" He asks passionately.

🐉 The gang cheers, pleading for you to say yes, it was like being confessed to by 7 grown men

🐉 "So? What will you say?" Kagiri asks, with eyes sparkling with hope and adoration.

🐉 The gang was kicked out of the establishment for making too loud and causing a disturbance..

🐉 Maybe you shouldn't have said yes..

its done guys, this is probably the most fun ive had writing a fic!! also there may be bonus content about the individual gang members if you guys are up for that ;3

[silversnakes-yan]

How yanderes react to an innocent and very airheaded reader

✲𝓘𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻✲

Rory w/ an innocent reader

Isaiah

His protectiveness multiplies by 100. Isaiah will quickly become your scary guard dog. Trust, no one’s going to bother you with a 6’2 built man hanging around you like a bodyguard.

He’ll also want to take care of you even more. All the heavy lifting and strenuous chores will be left to him. Honestly you won’t have to lift a finger around him.

Jason

Has a huge corruption kink. He would love to mess with a darling like this. He’ll think that you’re gullible naive and very easily persuaded.

Pulling reactions out of you will fuel his ego tremendously. Whether it be by scaring, threatening or humiliating you. He’ll turn into an even bigger beast than he already is…

Noah

Low key wants to see you get high for the first time. Noah will also think it’s funny to play pranks on you. You will not know peace around him. Will only stop if you cry or explicitly tell him you don’t like it. Then he’s begging for forgiveness.

Other than that guys would be two peas in a pod. Noah himself can be air-headed as well. You two will most likely be in your own little oblivious world.

Arlo

You remind him of his sister in a way. He’ll think you’re cute. Too cute. His brain will short-circuit around you constantly.

This relationship will be the most slow burn of slow burns. He’s not very good at being around his crushes. Let alone a crush that doesn’t pick up on his advances. He’ll most likely suffer in silence.

[sweet0puppy]

Reblog if u want anonymous dms and asks ;)

[metranart]

Will you be Toman’s darling? Mikey can’t seem to stop asking, it’s not enough to be able to fuck you whenever he wants, he needs the title that you’re HIS but not only his but also his mates, those guys he loves more than his own life… and unfortunately, you do as well. 

You don’t understand why it’s so important to them, but each one has asked the same question over and over again. Draken kisses you, his tongue dancing with yours while his hips don’t miss a single thrust, it’s delicious, it’s delirious and he only dares to break the kiss to ask. “Will you be ours?” —You don’t answer, just bite his lip and begin to thrust your hips to him, as a way to distract him but he’s not dumb and less of all, a quitter, so he won’t give up, none of them will! 

Baji’s strong hands anchor you to him, perched on either side of your hips as he rams you from behind, your eyes have been blank for more than fifteen minutes, his name rolls off your tongue like your private mantra and from his tongue rolls: “Say yes,” his ragged breath demands, “Stop torturing us and say yes, shit!” The answer he wants to hear isn’t spoken but that doesn’t discourage him from cumming deep inside you -marking you from the inside out at least gives him so kind of relieve-…. 

Mitsuya’s attempts are more tender, kisses and cuddles, your naked bodies tangled in each other, the strong fingers of his fist tangled among your sweaty strands of silky hair, each thrust hitting that special place inside you that makes you see stars, his lips only parting to adore you and when you think you’re safe: “We will take care of you, we will go out of our way for you… just say yes, just grant us that favor—be OURS….”. Apparently being filled by each and every one of these gang members isn’t enough, moaning their names and marking their necks with hickey doesn’t satisfy them, they want you for themselves, they want you in their gang as their banner as their princess. 

Mikey is the most stubborn, his fat thumb slides under your skirt, snaking behind your panties, two fingers accompanying it to slip inside you, drumming and circling your clit as if it were the joystick of an Xbox control, your flushed cheeks and half-open lids delight him, makes him drunk and dizzy, just being able to put you in that delirious state. He knows it’s his mission in life to have you like this forever, you’re his, you must conquer Tokyo with them, you must stop resisting and agree to their terms. Mikey doesn’t waste any moment to ask, while he kisses you, while he eats you out, while he makes you cum harder than ever. 

“Will you be ours? ....yesyesyesyes-?”

Their teamwork is weakening your good judgment, it’s too much, your knees buckle, and your voice is a permanent moan. Damn! Your shivering lips parted and the gazes of the four gang members shine with hope. Anxiety and stress can be detected in their clenched fists, a heavy silence falls over everyone when you say: 

“I’m already yours, why do we need to tag it… I’m not going anywhere.”

There is disappointment, frustration, even anger but also amusement in their features. They won’t accept a refusal. They will just have to keep convincing you, again and again and again. You are stubborn, but so are they.

➡️ FULL NSFW ART of this drabble ��

[heartfullofleeches]

Purple Murder Clown: You got the stuff?

Dealer Reader: For sure....You...uh [gestures to the clown's attire] You wear that get up all the time?

Purple Murder Clown: Maybe. Got a problem with that?

Dealer Reader: Nah, dude- It's pretty sweet. Tell you what, lemme honk your nose and I'll give you this for free.

Purple Murder Clown: No joke? Shit- I was just gonna choke you out and take it, but that sounds like a fair deal to me. I'll even do you one better.

[The clown takes their hand and places to their chest - Reader's eyes widening as they hear a soft honk!]

Dealer Reader, memorized by the clown's tits as they squeeze them: No fucking way....

Purple Murder Clown: Heh... Bold one, aren't you. I like that in a person. Fuck it, you're coming home with me.

-

[The clown and Reader hang out in the living room of the gang's current hide out - stoned out of their minds as Purple does Reader's clown makeup]

Purple Murder Clown: There. Looking good- You're gonna fit right in

[Orange stumbles into the room muttering swears as they grip their side]

Orange Murder Clown: I can't believe that fucking whore stabbed me... With a corkscrew!... [Sees Reader] oh god damn it ... WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

Dealer Reader: May I offer you an edible in this trying time?

....

Orange, high as a kite, cradling a now passed out Reader in their arms: We're keeping this one, right?

[traumaticenby]

yandere picrew chain, anyone ??💌

[sk3tch404]

Normalize drawing what u enjoy

This is canonically how he got into photography /j

Am I blanchin girl we blanchin, I live up Inna mansion 💃💞🗣

[bella-goths-wife]

How reader could manipulate the bowers gang boys

Again, please enjoy my attempts at being deep writer while being sick and sad

I do not intend to romanticise or encourage any of the following warnings, my writing is solely for entertainment and informational purposes. I do not support or condone any and all abuse and I do not believe in any of the various themes I write about.

Henry bowers:

As we've established in previous posts, Henry craves to be taken care of

His mother was the only person who cared about him until his dad scared her off, and now he has no one

His dad couldn't give less of a shit about him, and while he sees the boys as his brothers, he'd never discuss thoughts and feelings with them because he was their leader and he can't seem weak

But you, you were so gentle and kind to those around you

Sure, you looked cold and sometimes you'd act like an arrogant bitch

But he saw how you acted with Beverly, before he made you his

You knew she struggled, so you'd make her an extra lunch and offer her a shoulder to cry on

Something about watching those interactions made Henry's skin crawl with an ugly jealousy which he mistook for anger and disgust

That's why he was so intent on hurting you the day he and the boys followed you after school, so he could take out his frustrations

But then he and the other boys saw you dancing, and he knew you'd be perfect

The way you could manipulate Henry is by really playing into the caregiver role

Make his lunches, write him little notes on them, offer to trim his hair, cook his dinners, offer to do his laundry and take care of his wounds after fights

Really act like you care about Henry, make him believe that you can be relied on

Make Henry believe that you are the one person in the world who cares about him and you'll be in for a world of surprises

As time goes on Henry will reveal more about himself, in his own gruff and verbally abusive fashion

But there will be a gentleness that's unlocked within him, it's minuscule when looking at it through the societal norms but if you view it as someone who has experienced his abuse for months, the change can be unexpected

If you do something wrong, as long as it's only minor (like burning his food slightly or not responding the first time he speaks), he'll turn a blind eye to it for the first time it happens instead of yelling and hurting you

And if he does decide to 'punish' you, he'll clean up your wounds instead of making you work through it and he'll make sure to avoid body parts that are vital to your ballet dancing

He'll also become more affectionate in his own way

He'll hold you at night in a way that used to be rough and only a precaution in case you tried to do something while he slept, but now his hold is less bruising and held more adoration then before

If you want to manipulate Henry, then the best way to do this is to voice your opinion while he holds you

It's really the only time he'd listen, so you'd have to make sure you do it correctly and you don't overuse it because he would eventually catch on

But if you wanted something to change within the group, your best chance is to mention it during this time

For example, if you didn't want to be around Patrick for too long, all you'd have to say to Henry is "Patrick makes me uncomfortable sometimes when he touches me"

And suddenly, your around Patrick by yourself less and less by Henry's command

Another route you could take is to cause conflict within the group, for example

You could say something like "Patrick's been quite demanding lately, he told me not to make you lunch tomorrow and to make it for him instead"

This will plant seeds of doubt in Henry's mind and will cause problems amongst the boys

The only side effect to this manipulation is a very needy, clingy and possessive Henry who feels the need to have you around 24/7 since you take such good care of him

Patrick Hockstetter:

Patrick is a sociopath, it's very clear to see and if he were born ten years later he would be labelled as dangerous to society

So his manipulation would be extremely hard, but everyone has their blindspots

And Patrick's is that he craves sexual attention and validation

Patrick has been sleeping with girls since he was fifteen, and sometimes he thinks it's the only thing that makes other people seem real to him

He's engaged in sexual relations with you, but never with your consent

And while he enjoys the pleasure and control he gains from the interaction, he knows that he would prefer it if you were an active participant who enjoyed the experience with him

A way you could manipulate Patrick is if you started to act enthusiastic to sleep with him

You'd have to force yourself and you'd have to be a good actress, but if you acted enthusiastically about having sex with Patrick and sharing that part of yourself willingly with him it would definitely lower his guard

As I've mentioned before in previous posts, after having any sexual interactions with you he will be kinder to you for a few weeks afterwards

This means that If you wanted to make it so he was being nicer to you then you could initiate sex with him for your own benefit

This would grant you many rewards such as gifts he stole from the mall, defending you against the other boys when they get too rough and he's even able to get you out of some of the punishments the other boys set out for you

Another route you could take Patrick's manipulation is to withdraw from sex completely

For weeks you'd be enthusiastic and initiating sex with Patrick until he does something that makes you upset

Once he does this, you stop acting happy about having sex with him and you stop participating

You can't outright stop having sex with him unfortunately as he will just force you to

But If you withdraw from sex go from someone who was enthusiastic and excited to someone who just lays there and takes it while you dissociate from the situation, it's gonna give Patrick a case of whiplash

He'll try and enjoy the sex even though your withdraw but he just can't anymore, not when he's experienced you at your fullest

So he'll subconsciously start to gain back your attention

This would be an opportunity to try and gain more out of Patrick

Request things that you'd get smacked for before

Ask for things like alone time, cigarettes, friends and they'll all be granted as long as you just have sex with Patrick with the same passion as before

If you want to cause problems with the group through your manipulation of Patrick, start sleeping with one of the other boys with enthusiasm while denying Patrick and you'll have a fist fight in no time

Victor Criss:

Vic is extremely possessive of you

You are his and he is yours, he has stated this to you many times

This possessiveness has always been encouraged by his silent resentment of Henry and the other boys

All of his nice and pretty things were always taken from him

When he was younger, belch would steal his toys and break them

When he was a pre teen, Henry would steal his lunches and snacks from home

And when he was a teenager, Patrick would steal any girl that vic found pretty before sleeping with her and leaving her broken hearted

Vic held so much resent in for those instances, but they formed dark bruises on his heart from the memories

All you have to do is press down on those bruises and reignite the sting he felt from them

You could act very affectionate with him behind closed doors and act like the two of you are just passionate lovers

Be affectionate with him and make him more vulnerable and susceptible to your manipulative behaviour

Once he's comfortable, reinforce his thoughts of how you are his and his only

Make sure he knows that you believe that you are his as well

This will encourage to him to take your requests more seriously and to even grant the very few he can

It also reassures you that he's less likely to punish you if you act like his perfect little toy

•But if you wanted to go down the route of manipulating the boys against each other, then your best bet is to pit him against Henry

Drop into conversations that you wish you could spend more time with him, but Henry just won’t let you

Describe all the horrible things Henry does to you and exaggerate it before adding “if it was just you and me, you’d never do anything like this to me”

All those feelings of resentment that vic repressed for years will boil over

At first it will start off as small arguments but it will quickly develop

If you continuously use these methods of manipulation on vic for months and then try to provoke Henry into acting cruel to you and punishing you in front of vic, then make vic watch the cruelty being inflicted on you and watch his possessive and protective behaviour bubble to the surface

There would be a bloody fight which would end up with one of them dead, and you better pray that it’s Henry who looses

You know what they say

If you want to kill a snake, remove the head

Belch Huggins:

As I’ve said in my other posts, belch is absolutely desperate for your approval

He’s craved it ever since the first time you granted him a compliment

Even if it was more of an observation of a compliment, to him it felt like a goddess had finally given him a purpose

You may think that’s enough to be able to manipulate belch, but unfortunately you weren’t the first person to figure this out

Henry has always been observant over belch, belch is physically stronger and if he were smarter he could probably overtake Henry as the group leader

So Henry definitely noticed how much belch lit up after you praised or complimented him

And he saw this as something that could be a threat

So he decided to use it against you before you figured out a plan

He told belch that in order to gain your approval, he would have to follow Henry’s instructions no matter how cruel or violent they were

Henry reassured him that even if you insulted belch or yelled at him for following Henry’s instructions, but it was all for your own good

And eventually you’d thank belch for helping you figure out what you wanted

At least that’s what Henry told him

So no matter how guilty belch may feel, Henry has manipulated him so much that he truly does believe the abuse is gonna help you

But one way you could manipulate belch is through similar methods as vic or Henry

Overpower him with your affection and compliments

Make him feel loved and wanted with your words and actions

But only do this obviously in private with him

Only give him your affections and approval subtly

Think about secret lovers affection, like touching pinkies with your hands spread out or his hand on your knee under the table

These actions will make his as giddy as a teenager in love

He truly will believe that you and him are in love

While you give him the affection and approval that he craves, make small requests like

“I really wish I could smoke again, do you think you could give me one of your cigarettes”

Now there is a small chance that he’ll allow it if he’s blissed out on your touch, but if he denies you then immediately stop all the affection that your giving him and push him away

This will cause him to backpedal and give in to your request as long as you continue to touch him

This only works for minor requests though, for major requests you’ll need to scare him

For example, if you wanted some time to spend with Beverly then you’d have to ask him and when he Denies you then simply threaten him with harming yourself or not eating

This will send his protective side into overdrive and you can have this man on his knees begging for forgiveness if you play your cards right

A way to manipulate him against the rest of the group is to prove yourself as the only person who cares about him and loves him before planting the seeds of doubt in his mind

Drop little comments like “Patrick was wrong about you, your not stupid” or “vic says your too violent, but I don’t think that’s true”

He’ll start to second guess his friends and he’ll start to come to you more with his problems

But the best move to make is to make it so after all those months of manipulating belch against the rest of his friends, have him watch as Henry is unnecessarily cruel to you

And then go crying into belchs arms in private and demand to know why he didn’t help you or defend you

Drop in a “I thought you loved me” and you’ll have undone all of Henry’s manipulation in seconds

You could convince belch to take you away from the rest of the boys and to run away with you so you could be together forever

Hopefully you’ll be able to sneak away from belch at some point because he now trusts you

And even if you don’t, being stuck with belch is the lesser of two evils

[dex0s]

☆ ⌒Short smut ˑ 𖥔

!Draken x reader x Mikey!

A/N Ngl I’m starting to get writers block but this is all smut because I’m too lazy to make a story. Warning; your ass getting called a boypussy

Image you waking up to both of your holes stuffed.

One cock in your ass and the other in your mouth.

Mikey and Draken had the biggest crush on the cashier at the bakery that they would go to.

They slowly got to know you better and it got to a point your guys would have sleepovers or hangouts.

But tonight they were going to do something they have been waiting for.

Draken asked if you wanted to have a sleepover at his house just you and him and of course you accept.

You had ended up falling asleep on the movie you guys were watching and that’s was when the plan was set in motion.

Draken had called Mikey over so they can start yet Draken was getting inpatient so he decided that he would start without Mikey.

By the time Mikey finally arrived Draken already had his cock in your ass with you moaning underneath him.

You moaned as Draken pounded your “boypussy”, you hear to door open and you see Mikey standing there with a pouty face. “You know you could have waited until I was here” he said

Yet he got no response due to Draken being too drunk on your ass. Mikey walked up to you two and from the corner of your eye is can see the tightness in his pants.

Draken knew he was close to release so he started to become sloppy with his thrust. Mikey settled on the bed and pulled out his hard cock, took one of your hands and started to use it to jerk himself off.

Draken finally released his warm cum in your slimy walls but he wasn’t near done. Draken slipped out of your walls and said, “Mikey it’s your turn”, Mikey quickly climbed over to where Draken was sitting.

Mikey slides in easily with Draken’s cum and your walls already prepped, Not even seconds later Mikey was pounding into you like a dog in heat.

“D-damn you feel amazing” is what Mikey said, Mikey took one of your nipples in his mouth sucking like you would lactate some milk.

As you opened your mouth to gasp and Draken took this as an opportunity to slip his cock in your mouth.

Before you can a breath of air Draken already started to thrust in your mouth not caring if you can breathe or not. He’s more worried about chasing his high than you.

Finally after the third round you can feel both of them getting sloppy. That when you felt something warm in your ass and a salty taste in your mouth.

Closing your eyes someone slap your ass. “Don’t go to sleep now, we still have the whole night ahead of us”

[2-dsimp]

omg zombie?? Rotting companion when?? I wonder if he's the slow type or the "I may be decomposing but I can sprint at a full 20 km/h" kind of guy

I luv zombiesss

-andwy tiddy hater

Cw: Heavy angst, obsessive/possessive tendencies, your boyfriend turning into a lovelorn zombie.

Synopsis: Soma, your boyfriend, happened to be the number one gamer in the world due to the fact that nobody could beat him at video games. Nobody except for his Lovely player two who he absolutely adores. One day during a zombie mob flash he sacrificed himself and got bitten in your stead so that you may live another day. Now as time passed, he was set to roam the streets as an undead zombie. Waiting to see you again to ensure that he won’t ever let the both of you be separated again. Not over his half dead body.

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

Soma, your boyfriend, is always so eccentric but sweet at the same time. He’d always make sure to mark down your important days on his calendar just to make sure he never misses a moment in his darling’s life. Which is everyday, from the moment you wake up down to the moment you close your eyes goodnight.

The Pro Gamers journal is filled with borderline obsessive scribbles of him recording the way that you sleep. And listing a bunch of observations about how adorable you looked curled up or sprawled out like a starfish. Not only that he takes the time to analyze and document every bit of your habits as if you he’s a biologist and you happened to be his precious specimen.

Either way no matter if you’re asleep or awake his hands won’t grow tired of drawing portraits of you. Within his sketchbook he used as an excuse to highlight gaming mechanics to his team. He’s pretty freighting when it comes to it, if you ask anyone on his team. They’d tell you to not even try and reach out towards it for a better look, since you get an automatic knee to the face.

“Oh my bad didn’t ya say that you wanted a close up of my combo breaker? Hmm? Not in irl? Well you Shoulda been more specific my guy”

Fast forward a few months, It all happened so suddenly when your part of town got hit with an unknown anomaly from a parasitic animal. That escaped from Devildom into the human realm. Successfully kickstarting a disease which made those who aren’t familiar with its origins. To fall into a frenzied state of loss consciousness and inability to control of one’s body.

During the earliest stages of the infection that spreading through your quaint city. Which was thankfully isolated from the rest to prevent even more of an outbreak. You were on a date with your boyfriend who was such a advocate for being spontaneous. Soma loved to surprise you with fun outings like going to amusement parks, para gliding, bungee jumping, kayaking, you name it.

But this time he wanted to give you a breather and take you on a lowkey cute date at a nearby cafe. Soma had an arm around your hip squeezing it lightly while he leaned against you like an over grown puppy.

“Lovie I’m so lucky to have you~ I don’t ever wanna live a day without being able to hold you, love you, kiss you, n fu—“

“Oh we’re here already! You excited to try out those cute menu items you’ve been fangirling about hun?”

Your boyfriend exclaimed giddily oftentimes having a habit of rambling on about how much he adores you on a daily basis. He went to open the door for you right after pressing a hungry kiss to your lips. It was something he always did before he had to leave your side even for just a brief moment.

Since he was paranoid in the fact that anything could happen to his cherished relationship with you. And he’d rather not it happen without him kissing you one last time.

You guys had just entered the door only to be met with a the rabid eyes and foaming mouths of the former patrons that dined there. It wasn’t any help that this cafe was jammed packed due to their popularity so it’d only take a split second for you to get snatched up by one of the infected standing in line.

You could barely register the way you were shoved out of the store by your boyfriend in an attempt to guard you from being taken by the horde. You stumbled outside the glass doors eyes wide with shock as you witnessed. A different side of Soma that you’ve never seen before, one that had him going batshit crazy.

Seeing how those filthy hands tried to take you away from him. Had him going off on a tangent about how he’d kill them twice over, for even trying to touch a single hair on your head. Claiming how you were his and his only and that nothing on heaven nor earth would change it.

Despite being outnumbered he put up one hell of a fight knocking the parasites down one by one into eventually one of them took a chance to bit his fist that he used to sucker punch their teeth out.

“Man you guys sure are tenacious for a bunch of deadweight…Shit just my luck”

Soma sighed, as if it was only a minor convenience that he’d gotten bitten. But nonetheless he kept letting his fist and legs fly not stopping until every single undead bastard was on the ground. Thanks to his self defense classes in karate.

It was only a matter of time before they got back up again so he turned around to give you a relaxed expression. A bright loving grin on his face as he asked you a simple question. While his veins became more prominent on his skin appearing in an abnormal pigment.

“Would you still love me as a zombie babes?”

You could only sob saying yes frantically as you watched your loved one turn into a different being. At your answer he let out a flippant sigh of relief before continuing to lock himself inside the restaurant. Using the key that was hanging off the hip of an employee he stunned.

“Good, then you’d better watch your back since whether im dead or alive I’d still be crazy in love with you baby.”

The gamer said in a soft tone that had a darkened edge to it, almost as if he wasn’t just trying to lighten up the mood with one of his lighthearted quips. But was issuing you an actual warning to beware of if you ever came across him while he wasn’t in control of himself.

Now go, your eyes should see only good things. And I’m afraid it’s gonna be ugly for me, Ah wait! Before you go…Give me kiss?”

Soma asked with a boyish grin pressing his face against the glass door with his lips puckered. As he waggled his eyebrows at you. It made you pissed off to say the least at how he was treating this a some kind of joke.

But you couldn’t help but notice his body twitching sporadically which was a telltale sign of how anxious he was. How scared he was of losing you. And how terrifying he’d be once he turned knowing that there’d be nothing to hold him back from showing his purest form of love for you.

Your boyfriend was already internally battling the urge to pull you against him. So you’d never leave his sight, that you two would be together forever regardless of death since nothing could ever change the way his heart beats purely for you. So just one more kiss, no matter if There’s a thin glass barrier, he just wants to be close to you, to somewhat feel you before his body shuts down on him.

You scrambled to press yourself against the door your palm on top of his. You gave him one last longing gaze, beforehand pressing your lips against the glass. Not noticing how he was just unblinkingly staring at your reflection. Burning the image of you so deeply into his mind that even if his critical thinking perished he’d never ever forget you even in death.

You were hesitant to leave him wanting to stay until his final hours but he childishly shooed you away. Claiming that he doesn’t want you to see him become an uggo version of himself. Since glowing down in front of his beau would be immensely embarrassing. He couldn’t help but feel a cruel twist of satisfaction seeing your reluctance to leave his side and those pretty eyes of yours welling up with tears meant only for him.

“We’ll meet again soon Lovie, mark my words, if you think I’d ever leave you alone then you’ve got another thing coming… So make sure to do your best until I come to make you mine once more permanently”

A few days later, the infection took hold of him but not in a way he was expecting. Sure he may have lost some of his humanity, but for a strange reason. The pro gamer still retained some fragments of his consciousness. His head was pounding from your name, invading his headspace. With every pulse of his brain that was fried at the moment.

Soma chuffed with a crooked grin, as he suspected not even death would take away his inherent need for you. Nor could it ever make it cease to be. He had to find you, sure it was selfish but he can’t stop from obsessing over your very being ingrained in his hazy memory. Where only the images of you were clear as can be.

Breaking the lock with his newly found inhuman strength, he became a half mindless zombie. Who actively searches for his you like a moth to a flame. Tearing everything and anything apart that stands in his way.

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

A/n: if you want to see more of your undead boyfriend feel free to send in an ask 👀

[banj0possum]

Do you think the Yan gang are more akin to dogs or cats?

🐉 Either is good!! Actually theres a bunch of stray cats and dogs by the building their gang usually hangs out in.

🐉 They try to befriend them by leaving out food and such but nothing really works.

🐉 They get really defensive and intimidating when someone starts messing with any of them, whether that animal has warmed up to them or not.

🐉 Kagiri wants to train the dogs to follow orders like guard dogs but when they try to teach them tricks they just end up playing with them.

🐉 Kagiri has settled on having a guard cat named Kororo. He's very fierce and good at his job.

🐉 Kagiri rewards him with cat nip every day

[ak319]

Lovesick A.M x f!reader

--★ Rose Hats and Rough Hearts

(AN: So, a fic idea I have serves as an inspo for this one-shot. The reader is a morally gray character and doesn't like being part of the gang. Anyway, enjoy reading!.) Syno: When her sharp tongue turns on Dutch, Arthur wonders if she’s gone too far, or if he’s fallen too deep. Warnings/MDNI: Age gap (you are in early 20's and Arthur is 30-31), pining, angst, fluff. ✰ -11k.

“Well, wasn’t that easy? Been a long time since I enjoyed a robbery like that,” Hosea chuckled, tugging down his bandana.

Arthur glanced at the bag tied to the horse, heavy with valuables, and gave a small nod. “Definitely.”

The two rode at a leisurely pace, the quiet night stretching around them like a blanket, the stars casting a soft glow over the landscape. Arthur’s eyes drifted as they moved, catching on a patch of bushes nearby.

Roses.

Even in the faint starlight, their delicate shapes stood out, and an idea bloomed in his mind.

“Uh, Hosea,” Arthur started, breaking the calm, “I’ve got an errand to run.”

“An errand? At this time of night?” Hosea raised a brow, his tone lightly scolding. “You oughta rest now, son. You’ve earned it.”

“No, no,” Arthur replied quickly, waving it off. “Just need to head into town for a bit. Won’t be long, don’t you worry.”

Hosea paused for a moment, then gave a knowing smile and nodded. “Alright, if you say so. Just don’t go gettin’ yourself into trouble.”

He handed Hosea the score and with a final farewell, the two parted ways, Arthur veering off towards the town, his thoughts already on the next step of his plan.

Arthur arrived at the shop and dismounted, but instead of heading inside, he lingered by his horse, running a hand over the animal’s neck. Was this even a good idea? Why was it all so damn complicated?

There’s no harm in buying something, right? Just a harmless gesture. He could figure out what to do with it later... later.

For days now, it had been the same cycle.

Don’t think about her. Just don’t.

There’s no harm in it, right?

And yet he does.

Don’t look at her, it’s strange. Keep your distance.

A few stolen glances don’t mean anything when she’s far away, right?

And yet he does.

Don’t buy her a gift. What kind of fool even does that? Who is he to her, anyway?

And here he is, standing outside the shop, heart pounding like a damn fool, a love fool.

“Yes, sir? How may I help you? By the way, there’s a 5% discount on the winter stock. Perhaps you’d like to try the waistcoats?”

Arthur scratched the back of his neck, his eyes drifting around the shop. Was he in the right place? He scanned the shelves and displays until his gaze landed on the wall.

Yes, there it was. The item he’d noticed before.

“Can you show me that hat?”

The shopkeeper immediately retrieved it with a practiced hand and held it out with a smile. “Our latest and most popular piece, sir. Only $22.”

Arthur took the hat, turning it over in his hands. The black leather gleamed, unscathed and pristine, a far cry from his well-worn one. His eyes lingered on the rose corsage affixed to the middle, subtle but striking.

He stepped toward the mirror, setting the hat on his head, and studied his reflection. It was a fine hat

“Goes perfectly with your outfit, sir,” the shopkeeper remarked, his voice warm with flattery.

Arthur’s lips curled into a faint smile, but it quickly faded as he turned back to the shelves. “I saw a scarf, too. The one with the, uh... rose pattern.”

“Oh, the women’s one! Let me fetch it for you.”

The shopkeeper moved swiftly, his hands deftly retrieving the scarf. He prattled on about its fine quality and craftsmanship, but Arthur barely registered the words. They flew past him like horses leaping over a fence.

His thoughts were elsewhere, on you. On how the scarf would look wrapped around your neck, the way it might frame your face. The image was enough to push him to hand over the dollar bills for both items, not even noticing he’d given more than what was asked.

The shopkeeper’s voice called out behind him, but Arthur had already turned, mounting his Irish Draught, Clover, and riding off without a second glance.

He’d be wearing the rose hat, and you’d be wearing the scarf. The thought sat heavy in his chest, a strange mix of warmth and unease. Was he really going to give it to you now?

The wind tugged at his coat, but it couldn’t scatter the doubts and questions circling his mind. Was this... a confession?

Would you, confounding as you were, with your quicksilver moods and quiet distance, accept anything from him? You, who rarely spared him more than a glance, choosing instead to linger with the girls, Molly especially.

It ate at him sometimes, the way you seemed so unreachable. Always just out of his grasp, moving through the camp like a wisp of smoke, untouchable and wholly your own. And yet, he couldn’t stop watching. Couldn’t stop wanting.

You didn’t belong here, not like him, at least. You carried yourself with an air of defiance, tethered to the camp not by loyalty but necessity. A reluctant, bitter presence that had no reason to look twice at someone as rooted in this life as he was.

He saw the way you didn’t fit, the way you wanted to leave. And maybe that’s why the thought of you wearing the scarf--his scarf now--stirred something fierce inside him. The idea that, for once, he might give you something that tethered you to him, however briefly. Better than being tied to someone else. God, you have made him so selfish.

He clenched the scarf tighter, his jaw set. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was a start.

He didn’t know much about you, except years ago when one day he came to the camp and discovered that Hosea and Bessie had found somewhere, taken you in, and raised you as their own as they always wanted a child. Nobody in the camp knew where they found you except perhaps Dutch but it was never told properly and he didn't pry much too, no one really did. Everything had been fine-peaceful, even, until Bessie passed.

After that, you’d wanted out. To leave the camp, carve out a life of your own, away from the shadow of the gang. But Hosea couldn’t let you go. He was your father, after all, the one who had protected you, shielding you from the blood and grime of their world just as Bessie had wished for.

And then there was himself whose hands were drenched in blood.

All of this screamed doom. Yet, he was doomed... doomed by his stupid feelings and that desperate longing to have someone to call his own, to have someone waiting for him. A foolish wish, considering the life he’d led, the blood he’d spilled, and the world he was tied to.

He slowed the stallion, the weight of bubbling anxiety and frustration pressing down on him. God, it was all a mess. Even if he could manage to stop thinking for a while, to quiet the storm in his head... when he'd return to the camp and see you again, just going about your business, sulking in some corner after an argument, or throwing those sharp, witty remarks, especially at Pearson as you cooked, that pull, that ache, would come rushing back.

Curiosity was the root of it all. He just wanted to know. Why? Why were you like this? Was it because of Molly, how she’d twisted your heart with her bitterness, making you turn your back on Dutch and the rest of the gang? Or did you simply not care at all about any of them?

He huffed at the thought of the stew you probably made, not out of love, but out of duty, or maybe a touch of malice. If it tasted so good, made with nothing but spite, he couldn’t help but wonder how much better it would be if you made it with love.

��˖°

With a final pat to Clover’s neck, Arthur made his way back to camp, greeting the men as he passed. But there was something off, a silence hanging heavier than usual. He made his way toward Dutch, figuring he might have some thoughts on the score with Hosea.

"Dutch?"

The older man turned his head slightly, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, his gaze fixed on the lake.

"Arthur."

Before Arthur could speak, Dutch continued, his tone slow, almost contemplative. "You know we’re a family, right? That everything we do is for each other, not just for ourselves..."

"Of course, Dutch," Arthur replied, trying to understand where this was coming from.

Dutch chuckled softly, the sound more gravel than humor, before crushing the cigar underfoot with a casual motion. "Some people, immature people, just can't seem to understand that."

With that, Dutch turned and walked back to his tent, leaving Arthur standing there.

"Is... something the matter?" Arthur asked, his voice laced with curiosity and concern.

"Thing? No, someone is the matter." Dutch’s words were sharp, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at Arthur.

Arthur gave him an impatient look, silently urging him to get to the point. This wasn’t how he’d planned to spend the evening. Not at all. He’d been hoping to retreat to his tent, to let his mind drift into thoughts of you, to finally sit and think about the gift he’d picked out for you, wondering if you'd even notice if you'd even like it. He could already picture himself, the soft scarf fabric between his fingers, tracing the rose pattern as his thoughts wandered, imagining what it would feel like to wrap it around your neck... his gift for you.

Dutch exhaled sharply, clearly agitated. "Hosea has let her get away with too much. You know what she did? When Hosea returned to drop off the share from your little endeavour, she-" He cut himself off with a frustrated growl. "She thought I wasn’t here. She came charging out, and started an argument, telling him he was doing the wrong thing--the wrong thing! Can you believe that?"

Dutch shook his head in disbelief. "She actually had the nerve to say that, Arthur. And that instead of doing this--helping us all--he should be out saving for them both and getting away from this life." He paused, his chest rising with each breath. "I swear, Arthur... turning one of my most trusted men, a friend, against me? Over some damn bills? But Hosea... being Hosea...what does he do? Runs out of camp to bring her back."

"So what did you suggest?!" Hosea’s voice cut through the tension as he entered the tent, his eyes flashing with frustration. "Let my daughter go out in the wild alone? At night? How could you do that, say 'get lost' just like that? Knowing she will take it seriously? She grew up right in front of you!"

Dutch’s face tightened at Hosea’s outburst, his anger simmering. "Oh, so it hurt her ego, huh?! Like I care. For me , nothing’s worse than a selfish, disloyal piece of trash that you just had to take in because-"

"Enough! No!" Hosea snapped, his voice sharp as a whip. "Don’t you dare bring that up."

With a heavy sigh, Hosea turned on his heel, walking away from the confrontation, leaving Dutch to seethe in silence.

Dutch watched him go, muttering under his breath, "Take those damn dollars you bestowed on us, Hosea, and gift her a house, for all I care! Fine by my ass!"

Arthur’s mind was a tangled mess, unable to process the whirlwind of events. So much had happened, so many emotions he could hardly keep up. Confusion clouded his mind, frustration clawed at his chest, exhaustion weighed down on his bones, and fury burned in his gut. But none of it made sense. He couldn't even figure out who--or what--his anger was really directed at.

Was it you? Was it your reckless, thoughtless actions that set this all in motion? Or was it Dutch's words and how casually he was ready to kick a girl out, kick you out, just like that?

It was at both.

It was both, but more than anything, it was you. Because you’d started it, hadn’t you? You always had a problem with Dutch’s authority, even when you kept your sweet little mouth shut. It was in your eyes, those eyes. The eyes he could never get enough of, the ones he craved to meet his own. If only for a second. A second where the same longing, the same hunger for something more, reflected back at him.

But instead, there you were. Acting like everything was just... nothing. Like none of it mattered. Like he didn’t matter. You went out there, reckless, careless, as if you could just walk away from everything. From him. How fucking could you? What if it had gotten worse and someone just decided to harm you in the camp and even Hosea couldn't do anything-

"Arthur?"

"U-Um, yes?"

Dutch’s sharp gaze fixed on him, deliberate and piercing. He let the silence stretch just long enough to unsettle, his expression unreadable. "What do you think? Hm?"

"About...what happened? I--it’s... yeah, she shouldn’t have said that," Arthur muttered, the words clumsy and heavy on his tongue.

Dutch hummed, a slow and pointed sound, as though weighing Arthur’s response and finding it just barely acceptable. Arthur didn’t wait for more. He muttered a farewell and slipped out of the tent, the cool air doing little to clear the haze in his mind.

His eyes found Hosea almost immediately. The old man was sitting on his bedroll, his posture stiff and guarded. His eyes screamed of hurt, Dutch's words had affected him deeply. After some seconds his eyes would flicker at your tent. The sight made Arthur’s chest ache. Hosea’s protectiveness was undeniable.

Because no matter how much Hosea wanted to protect you, Arthur wanted something deeper, something more selfish.

What the hell am I even thinking? he chastised himself, shaking his head. She’s not my responsibility. She’s not mine.

He wanted to say something to Hosea, to offer comfort or at least commiseration, but his feet wouldn’t move. Instead, he turned away, retreating to his own tent with a heavy sigh. Once inside, he shut the flaps, placed his hat on the table, and dropped onto the cot with a grunt of annoyance.

Reaching for the scarf, Arthur held it above him, the dim light tracing over its soft, silken material. He let it graze his face, the faint scent of the shop lingering on it, but it was his mind that did the real work. He imagined the fabric tangled in your hair, how it would feel wrapped around you as he held you close. He could almost feel the tickle of those strands against his skin, his breath hot against the side of your neck.

The thought of having you here, in his arms, that close, his hands gripping you, pulling you to him, ignited something fierce inside him. It wasn’t just the touch. It was the idea that you could be his, fully, if only you’d let him. He clenched the scarf tighter, frustration and something darker simmering in his chest.

With that vision playing in his mind, he let the scarf fall, draping it across his face and chest, the weight of it somehow both comforting and unbearable.

Lying there in the dark, his lips brushed over the fabric absently, and a bitter smile tugged at his lips. It was maddening, the way you consumed his thoughts without even trying. Even now, with frustration still simmering under his skin, all he wanted was to see you, to watch your expression, even if it meant enduring one of your scowls.

You little menace, I swear one of these days I might just lose my patience.

But you didn’t care, did you? You’d stormed out, reckless and fiery, with no thought of him or anyone, not even yourself. And here he was, lying alone, haunted by the feeling of silk and the ghost of a life he’d never have. With a frustrated grunt, Arthur shifted onto his side, clutching it closer, the tension in his body growing. He couldn't help but think if he had been here earlier, he would have tied you to him, not out of malice, but out of desperate, aching need. The kind of need that he couldn’t push down, no matter how much he tried. The kind that made him crave something from you that you didn’t even know you had to give. Something more. Something that would finally make you stay.

Sleep wouldn’t come easily.

He wanted you to feel it, to bear the same punishment he carried every night. To know what it was like to lie awake, tormented by the thought of someone you couldn’t have, unable to chase the fleeting peace of sleep because they haunted you in ways you couldn’t name. He wanted you to understand how it felt to be unraveled by longing, to have your very being tethered to someone who wouldn’t even look your way.

But then...what was he even saying?

Why did he keep forgetting the truth? That you didn’t deserve his anger, his silent pleas for recognition. That the fault wasn’t yours for not seeing him, no, it was his for daring to want you in the first place. Of course, you wouldn’t ever look at him that way. He was older, too far removed from your world, your interests, your life. And he knew, deep down, that you wouldn’t ever imagine, not in a thousand years, that someone like him could ever be interested in you. Even he could admit it, this was all stupid, unexpected, and nothing more than a fantasy.

And still, knowing this, he couldn’t stop himself. The heart never makes sense, does it? It doesn’t listen to reason or its owner, dragging you where it pleases, no matter the cost. Even he, a man who prided himself on control, had been reduced to a mere servant of its whims.

His fingers curled around the scarf as if it could somehow hold the pieces of him together. As if its softness could soothe the fire that burned inside him, one that you had lit and would never know.

Meanwhile, you lay in bed, staring at the worn canvas of the tent above. You weren’t leaving this tent. Not now. Not later. Not for anyone. They could all be damned for all you cared, it had all been damned ever since your mother died.

She was your anchor, the one thing tethering you to any sense of stability. And the moment she was gone, the world had cracked open, spilling truths you’d long suspected but never wanted confirmed. You weren’t really theirs. You weren’t their daughter.

Hosea refused to tell you why or how you ended up here, tucked into the folds of their chaos. But the truth was, you didn’t care anymore. You were tired. Tired of the games, the blind loyalty to Dutch’s every whim, the endless cycle of running and stealing and pretending any of it had meaning.

All you wanted was a normal life, a roof over your head that didn’t leak when it rained, a place where fear didn’t cling to the walls like smoke. But that dream stayed out of reach, just like everything else. Hosea wouldn’t let you go. He was scared to lose you, to lose something that was never even his.

Pathetic.

That’s what it was. That’s what they all were. And maybe Molly was right, Dutch’s charm was nothing but poison, bleeding into everything and everyone

"Bastard..."

You wanted a job, something stable to call your own. Or, if that wasn’t in the cards, maybe just to find some rich fool to marry so you could finally live in peace. Far from all this chaos. But no, these people couldn’t leave well enough alone, they had to loot every rich soul they came across.

Leave someone for me to marry at least, you scoffed bitterly, lips curling in a faint, humourless smile.

Sigh.

Dream on, (Y/N). Dream on.

Hosea’s familiar voice drifted in from nearby, low and steady as he spoke with Abigail. No doubt she was serving him food since you hadn’t bothered to. The sound grated on you, making you roll your eyes and turn to the other side of your bedroll. It wouldn’t be long, two days, maximum, before Hosea came to lecture you, or worse, dragged you out of this tent himself.

He was always so damn strict when it came to pulling your weight.

But right now?

Screw it. Screw him. Screw all of them.

Let them fend for themselves.

❀˖°

"Why do you do all this?"

Not did that. Do this.

Arthur’s voice was low, almost fragile, but there was a weight to it. A question layered with meanings he couldn’t bring himself to say outright. He just hoped you’d hear it, the real question, underneath the words. His gaze stayed fixed on the worn soles of your shoes, watching as you scrubbed at the dishes with an edge of restrained aggression that didn’t go unnoticed.

The sight would be funny to anyone in the camp right now. He was reduced to barely speaking above a whisper when it came to you, his usual steady tone faltering in a way it never did with anyone else. Whilst you were the only one who wasn't afraid of even him. While others tiptoed around him, wary of the weight his presence carried, you treated him with the same indifference, the same biting sharpness that you spared for everyone else.

Dammit, he fucking loved it.

It wasn’t fear he wanted from you, not respect or even obedience. It was something, anything, that showed he wasn’t just another face in the camp to you. It made him feel like that was all he was. Just another man under Dutch rule.

And it was maddening.

"I could ask the same question to everyone here," you replied, voice steady but sharp, like a blade dulled just enough to wound without cutting too deep.

"But you know the answer," he countered, quieter now, his words almost swallowed by the night air.

"And you do too," you shot back, turning slightly to glance over your shoulder, "but here you are. Playing the mediator of sorts."

Arthur exhaled sharply, his gaze falling to the ground as if the weight of your words had struck him in the chest. For someone who claimed to want nothing to do with this place, with these people, you had an uncanny way of stirring up trouble within it.

Perhaps you wanted that. You wanted to get kicked out.

He wanted to throw the thought out into the open, let it snap between you like a taut rope. But the bitterness in your tone, the heaviness in your stance, made him hesitate. Throwing oil on the fire wasn’t going to do either of you any good, not today.

"You’re wasting your breath on someone who isn't listening to whatever you have to say."

"Then I’ll just keep talkin’ until you do," he shot back, his voice low but resolute.

"Do whatever, I don't care. This place is full of people barking orders and trying to be big. Pft. How adorable."

At least spare me a glance. Just one.

"If you don't care about yourself, then at least do it for Hosea." His voice was strained, laced with a desperation he couldn't quite hide.

That made you turn, finally, but the look you gave him was anything but kind. Your gaze was sharp, cutting, laced with a mix of disdain and challenge. "Oh, so now you're worried about me being a bad daughter or something?" you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "I wonder if you all think the same way when you're out there making other daughters cry, making women widows and destroying families without a second thought."

This was the longest conversation you both had. Ever. And damn it was a wrecked one.

Your lips curled into a humorless smile as you snorted, mocking. "Tsk, I bet that's an exception, right? Family only exists here." You pitched your voice to mimic Dutch's smooth drawl, the mockery biting. Then, as if dismissing him entirely, you turned back to the washing, your hands moving with renewed fervor, the sound of water splashing filling the silence.

Arthur stood there, jaw tight, the weight of your words sinking into him like stones in a river.

He stood rooted in place, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. He wanted to say something, needed to say something, but the words lodged themselves somewhere in his throat, refusing to come out. Maybe it was the truth in your words that had him stunned.

Before Arthur could find a way to steer the conversation elsewhere, Hosea stepped into the fray, his tone calm yet firm. “(Y/N)...dear, today or tomorrow, you’ve got to apologize to Dutch and bury this hatchet.”

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly, looking off to the side, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. His heart thumped unevenly as he anticipated your response.

You turned to Hosea sharply, your expression a volatile mix of shock and simmering fury. “You want me to apologize to him?! For what?” Your voice rose, cutting through the camp’s quiet. “Just for talking to you about something I’ve wanted to for so damn long?!”

Arthur’s head snapped back in your direction. He could see the fire in your eyes now, blazing and relentless, and it struck something in him. That fire, he both loved and hated it, craved it and feared it. It was the very thing that made you impossible to ignore, yet it was also what pushed you farther from him. And still, he couldn’t help but think how maddeningly beautiful you looked right now, even if it tore him apart to watch you lock yourself away further from everyone, including him.

Hosea sighed, his calm facade slipping just slightly. “It’s not about what was said, it’s about how it was said. Dutch... he’s not perfect, but he’s trying. We all are.”

Your laugh was hollow, bitter. “Trying? Trying to keep us all in line like dogs? Sure, that sounds like a real noble effort.” You crossed your arms, your gaze icy as it met Hosea’s. “If you want to grovel to Dutch, go ahead. But don’t drag me into it.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his fingers brushing against his holster as if searching for something to ground himself. He knew that your words were not only directed at Hosea but him too.

“You’ve got too much pride,” Hosea muttered, shaking his head in exasperation.

“And you’ve got too much blind loyalty,” you shot back, unrelenting.

Hosea held your gaze, his own softening but remaining firm. "Look, let me say this again, this isn’t about the words you said, it’s about the way you said them. You can stand by your beliefs without tearing everyone else down in the process, sweetheart."

You scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. "So what? Dutch can tear everyone down, but when someone calls him out, it’s suddenly a problem?! That’s rich."

"It doesn't matter!" Hosea’s voice rose slightly before he caught himself, lowering it to a pleading tone. "And quiet down, don’t create a scene, again. Have mercy on your old man, at least. For now, we’re in the camp, and as long as we are, Dutch shouldn’t be disrespected like that. You can be as angry as you want with me, but please, just apologize to him. He’s always been like an uncle to you... (Y/N)."

You let out a bitter scoff, your lips curling in defiance. "And he's the one who clearly doesn't want me here but--fine...fine Papa," your hands slammed the plate down in the basin. "I’ll do whatever you say. Because, apparently, my words are nothing but bullets of disloyalty now. The same words that were once adorable wishes to you."

Your words hit like a lash, leaving Hosea standing frozen as you stormed off toward your tent. Arthur watched the older man, his chest tightening when he saw the same hurt settle in Hosea’s eyes, the kind of pain that only festers in the heart of someone who loves deeply and feels powerless.

"I wish..." Hosea began, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling under the weight of emotions he rarely let show. "I wish I never told her the truth... that she’s not my child. Maybe it messed her up... It broke me more than it broke her."

Arthur stepped forward, his boots crunching softly against the dirt as he hesitated for a moment before closing the distance. Hosea turned his head slightly, and Arthur's heart clenched when he saw the glint of tears streaking down the older man’s face. It was the second time Arthur had witnessed Hosea cry, the first being after Bessie's death.

"It... it terrified me," Hosea whispered, voice thick with emotion. "I kept thinkin' last night, what if one day I'm not here, and Dutch just turns on her like that? Sure, the women might object, but that’s it. They’re powerless against him. No one would stand up for her... and she'd be all alone..." He sniffed, wiping his eyes, trying to regain control. "And that’s what broke me, Arthur."

It broke me too...

Arthur stepped closer, his voice low but steady. "Jus' don't think about all that happened. Forget it and don't worry Dutch will forget about it. He won’t hold onto it, not like that. And she... she’ll forget too. You’ll see."

Hosea let out a dry chuckle, wiping a stray tear from his weathered cheek. "She? I don’t think so. Not about this. When it comes to this topic, she won’t let it go." He paused, leaning heavily against the wooden counter, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of years pressed harder in that moment. "I want it too, Arthur. The house, the quiet life… I want to give her that. But it’s not easy. It’s not."

He gestured vaguely toward the camp, the flickering lantern light catching in his tired eyes. "Leaving all this behind, all of you, it’d feel like... like a betrayal. Even if I left on a good note, it wouldn’t sit right. Do you get what I mean?"

Arthur nodded, his posture relaxing now that you weren’t there to sharpen the tension in the air. "Yeah," he said softly. "I think we all... kind of want that." His words trailed off, his thoughts unraveling into something more personal. Something he couldn’t bring himself to say.

I do. I want it... with you. Maybe. No...

Only.

Hosea turned his head to study him, an unspoken question hanging in the silence. Arthur caught the look and quickly shrugged it off, letting out a small exhale as if to clear the thought entirely. "Jus’ don’t let Dutch know," he muttered with a faint smirk. Hosea returned the gesture. " 'Course not. Let's go have some coffee, boy." He reached to pat the man's shoulder but Arthur’s hand shot out, grabbing Hosea’s with a suddenness that made the older man freeze. His eyes, wide and questioning, met Arthur’s with a flicker of concern, but also an understanding that something serious was coming.

"Um--there’s... something that I want to..." Arthur’s voice faltered as he cleared his throat. His gaze darted to the ground, to the side, anywhere but Hosea’s eyes. The same sheepish, uncertain look Hosea had seen a hundred times, but now it felt different.

Hosea arched a brow, waiting for him to continue. "Well, go on then. What did you do?"

Arthur’s mind was a mess, his thoughts tangled with nerves and fear. What the hell am I doing? His heart raced as his hand shook slightly. What the hell am I about to do?

His breath caught as he reached into the inside of his jacket, fingers brushing the fabric of the chest pocket where he’d hidden it. It was a decision that had plagued him for days, one that felt impossible to avoid now.

He pulled out the scarf--silken, covered in his scent, soft to the touch, but now burning in his hand like a symbol of everything he couldn’t say.

 For her.

It’s for her.

"I- I bought this..." he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying the words aloud made them too real, too vulnerable.

Hosea’s face was unreadable at first, but then he saw the scarf, and a brief chuckle escaped him, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I thought it was clear I’m a man, Arthur."

The joke hit Arthur like a slap, and he couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten. God, this was harder than he’d imagined. His throat went dry, his fingers tightening around the scarf as if it could somehow anchor him, give him the courage to keep going. But he was drowning in hesitation.

Arthur’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, his entire body trembling with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. The thought of Hosea’s reaction, the uncertainty of what might follow this moment, made him question if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life. Would Hosea kill him? Would he laugh at him? Or worse, would he pity him?

Hosea’s eyes bore into him, patient, yet expectant. "Well, boy?"

Arthur’s mouth went dry, but he forced the words out. "It’s for... (Y/N)."

For a moment, there was a stillness, and then to his shock, Hosea’s expression softened, eyes widening, almost in a kind of jubilant surprise. The older man’s lips curled into a smile, the warmth of it almost disarming.

Hosea took the scarf from Arthur, his hands gentle as he examined the gift. A sense of something unspoken passed between them, something Arthur couldn’t quite name, but it was there in the way Hosea’s gaze softened. "Really?"

Arthur barely had the strength to nod, his eyes avoiding Hosea’s, his face burning with embarrassment and a kind of fear he couldn’t even process. Was this really happening? He was spilling it to him, of all people, your father.

He nodded again, his voice barely a whisper. "Yeah..."

Hosea’s hand reached out to pat Arthur’s arm in an almost fatherly gesture, the older man’s voice low and steady. "Well then... I’ll be sure to give it to her." He smiled, a knowing warmth in his eyes that made Arthur’s chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. "Thank you. Y’know... you’re the only one I trust after me."

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat, the words sinking in like the heaviest of weights. It felt like he’d won a game, but one he hadn’t even realized he was playing.

Arthur’s throat tightened at the thought, his breath catching. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d attached to the simple scarf until now. It was just a piece of fabric, yet the meaning behind it had become so much more than he’d ever expected.

"Just... tell her to, you know... don’t burn it at least," he muttered, his chuckle awkward and thin, as if trying to deflect the intensity of his own feelings. But the words weren’t a joke. They were the truth, and they hit him harder than he wanted to admit.

The image burned in his mind, you, angry, perhaps unaware, throwing it into the campfire or tearing it apart with a pair of scissors. The thought was almost unbearable, each possibility worse than the last. The way his hands clenched into fists at his sides showed just how deep the fear ran.

He couldn’t let that happen.

If you did something like that, if you so much as damaged it, he... he didn’t know what he’d do. His thoughts spiraled out of control. Would he lash out? Would he burn the whole camp down if it meant getting you back, getting that thing back, untainted by your disregard? The intensity of his protectiveness shocked him, made his pulse quicken.

He forced himself to exhale, slow and controlled, but the tightness in his chest remained.

"Tell her," he repeated softly, though his voice cracked with something that felt more desperate than he'd intended.

"I will, I will. Don't you worry."

❀˖°

You nearly sewed your own finger, but kept going, the needle trembling slightly in your hand as you tried to focus. Jack sure knew how to break his damn button every week. But you never minded of course. That adorable little kid is like your brother. You couldn't remember the last time you’d felt calm enough to sit still and stitch something--anything--together without your mind wandering.

"I’m proud of you, y'know. You apologized. Thank you." Hosea’s voice broke through the silence, warm but layered with something else, something like relief, as he sipped his coffee. His words sank into the quiet of the tent, the flickering lamplight casting soft shadows over his face.

"Of course you are."

His response was a low chuckle, tinged with affection. He knew you loved him and valued his advice,. His mind played the memories of the times when you always waited worriedly whenever he went on jobs and made sure he was looked after in the camp. He couldn't be proud to have you as his daughter even if both of you clashed at moments like these.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes. Even if you’d done it for Hosea, for your own reasons, you couldn't shake the irritation that still lingered beneath your skin. But he was happy, and that was enough for him. His approval always mattered to you, more than you’d ever admit.

The silence stretched out between you as you continued to sew, the rhythmic motion almost comforting. But Hosea’s gaze shifted, the way it always did when something was on his mind. He glanced at the closed flap of the tent, his attention drawn to the world outside. Then, after a moment, he spoke again.

"Here," Hosea said, holding the item out to you, his expression tight, as if he wasn't entirely sure how you would take it. You eyed the scarf suspiciously before taking it, your fingers brushing against the fabric, your thoughts clouded.

"Wow, thanks...it's so pretty," you muttered, still trying to piece together what was happening. Though genuinely happy to receive a beautiful gift.

Hosea shifted on his feet, averting his gaze, as if the words were stuck in his throat. After a long pause, you saw the truth flicker in his eyes.

"It's...from Arthur."

"Wha---huh? Why?" you asked, the suspicion in your tone now more palpable than ever.

Hosea looked away again, the embarrassment and discomfort evident in his posture, but the message was clear. You felt the shift in the air, a kind of pressure that built between you both.

Your blood ran cold, and you couldn't stop the words that spilled from your lips. "Wha- excuse me??! Did you... did you just sell me or something?!"

The words landed, and Hosea's head snapped back, his face darkening, his jaw tight with frustration.

"What even---Are you out of your mind?" he shot back, his voice low, heated now. "Listen to me. I am not going to be here for you forever, and I worry for you, even if you think I don't! And him, he’s the only one I would trust to-"

"What are you on about?!" you cut him off, your voice rising with anger. "Am I some child that needs to be babysat?! I won’t stay here forever, either, Papa! Hell, I won't! And you’re here finding ways to bind me here?!" You could feel the heat rising in your chest, the frustration turning into something you couldn’t hold in any longer. "I understand everything! Don’t think I’m a fool!"

You couldn’t stop yourself. With a burst of pent-up fury, you threw the scarf on the floor, your hands shaking with the force of your frustration. "Handing me to some old lap dog, you’re out of your mind! I can't believe it, have some shame!."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between you both, as Hosea stood there, his hand still frozen in the air where he'd offered you the scarf, his eyes full of something raw, hurt, frustration, confusion. Hosea opened his mouth, but no words came. His gaze softened, his lips parted as if he were trying to find something to say. But the words you had just spoken hung heavy in the air, too loud and too real to take back now.

"You think I want this for you?" he finally whispered, more to himself than to you, his voice strained with frustration. "I just want you safe, damn it. Safe."

"If you want that, then find someone else, someone normal. A proper suitor, maybe? A decent citizen? Like Mama would have wanted!"

"And you think a 'normal citizen,' or the rich kind you dream of marrying, won’t ask about our background? Won’t dig into our truth? You want something built on lies, instead of what’s real? The most honest person you could have is right here, willing to do anything for you. I raised that boy, and I damn well know he will never disappoint me."

You rolled your eyes, fed up with another one of his lectures. "Yeah, because after spending half my life with outlaws, I've definitely lost the chance to be with anyone 'normal,' haven’t I? Then I'd rather die alone! Every man here is raised by you in some way but that doesn't mean that I have to trust them let alone be with THEM! You are being delusional! Whatever--just give it back, for God's sake," you snapped, your voice thick with frustration as you turned away, trying to put distance between yourself and the scarf as if it could somehow erase the conversation.

Hosea didn't move to leave. He just stood there. After a long pause, he shook his head gently, as if reconciling himself with something painful. "No, no I won't. Gifts are not meant to be... given back."

He picked the scarf up, his hands cradling it carefully as if it were something fragile, and for a moment, you could see him lost in thought, his eyes distant, remembering something else.

"I remember... the first time I held you in my arms," he murmured, his voice softer now, the anger and frustration fading into something more vulnerable. "You were my gift, too. You still are."

Your heart stuttered for a moment, the memory of being held like that, cradled in his arms when you were small, a time before all the complexities of your relationship had gotten so tangled. The warmth of his embrace felt distant now, like a fading echo.

Or it's just his way of manipulation.

"Papa, please, why are you even siding with him-"

"Enough, because I know better and I know you better," he interrupted, his voice firm this time, though it cracked slightly with emotion. "Just keep it." His words hung in the air, and he turned to leave the tent but paused just before he stepped outside.

He looked back, his gaze meeting yours for a moment, something flickered in his eyes, something deep, filled with regret, but also resolve. "If I couldn't, or am unable to give you the life you want," he said softly, each word deliberate, "my heart says he will."

You shook your head, your voice bitter as it escaped you. "Oh please, wait till you see when he kicks me out one day on your beloved Dutch's orders."

Hosea didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you, his expression a mixture of sorrow and a kind of quiet resignation, before he finally turned and walked out of the tent.

He would never be able to make you understand that Arthur would be the last person to do that.

❀˖°

The days that followed felt heavier, like a fog had settled around you. Arthur's presence, once easily ignored, now seemed to infiltrate every corner of your space. He started lingering around more often, always appearing at the most inconvenient times when you and Hosea were sharing a quiet meal or having (tea/coffee). At first, you thought it was just a coincidence, maybe just a shared moment of camaraderie, but the more it happened, the more uncomfortable it made you.

Arthur wasn’t doing anything overtly wrong, of course. He sat quietly, politely joining the conversation when spoken to, sipping coffee, offering a nod here and there.

It bothered you. You loathed it.

Is this some sort of indirect courting? Were you imagining things, or was this his way of trying to ingratiate himself with you? Was he trying to get Hosea's approval? To intimidate you? Or, perhaps, was it something more direct? Was he trying to... what, win you over? Hosea, for all his kindness and wisdom, didn’t mind Arthur’s company, even encouraged it.

The words Hosea had said echoed in your mind, lingering like smoke. "If I couldn’t, or am unable to give you the life you want, my heart says he will."

You scoffed internally, trying to push it away, but the more you thought about it, the more it gnawed at you. Was that really true? Hosea seemed to believe it, but you weren’t so sure. Arthur? The golden boy of Dutch’s gang? Or was Hosea just trying to soften the blow, making it sound like there was hope when in reality there was none?

You rolled your eyes, staring out into the distance. Why would he go after you? Out of all the people in the camp, why you?

It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

Still, a small part of you wondered... Should you ask him?

But what if you were wrong? What if Hosea was just speaking out of some misplaced hope? You didn’t know. And that uncertainty, it made you uncomfortable. Because you weren’t one to be uncertain. You didn't like it.

He just wants someone young to play with now that he's lonely.

Arthur stared at the journal in his lap, the unfinished sketch of eyes glaring up at him, imperfect and frustrating. He let out a slow, almost imperceptible sigh, his pencil hovering over the page, but he couldn’t seem to get it right. The eyes, those eyes, kept staring back at him, their gaze too empty, too raw. The frown on his face deepened as he bit his lip, his mind spiraling in frustration.

But that frown, that damn cute frown, it wouldn't fade. It never did. The curve of your lips when you were irritated or deep in thought, the way your brows furrowed as you focused on something else... It was almost intoxicating how endearing it was. Arthur couldn’t stop thinking about it, and worse, he couldn’t stop wanting to be the one to make that frown disappear.

If only you'd look at him once with a smile, he thought bitterly, the words tasting both sweet and impossible.

Because deep down, Arthur knew, he'd do anything. He’d break the sky and bring the world to your feet if you ever gave him that smile. 

He longed for that.

But no, that’s just a dream, Arthur thought with a resigned sigh, closing his journal and resting his hands on his knees. You wouldn’t even notice me that way. I'm just some damn fool in Dutch’s gang.

❀˖°

It was another evening, quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional crackle of the campfire. You were chopping vegetables at the makeshift table, the rhythmic thud of the knife against the wood filling the air. Hosea sat a few feet away on an overturned crate, sipping his coffee with a watchful but calm expression.

Arthur appeared at the edge of the clearing, his hat tilted low and his hands shoved into his pockets. You barely glanced at him, focused on your task, but the tension in his gait was impossible to ignore. Hosea caught it too, his brow raising ever so slightly as Arthur cleared his throat.

“Evenin’,” Arthur mumbled, his voice unusually hesitant.

Hosea nodded in acknowledgment, setting his cup down. “Evening, Arthur.”

Arthur glanced at you, then back at Hosea. His jaw worked for a moment, as though wrestling with what

And then you heard the words. Full of hesitation.

“I was wonderin’... if I could take her out. Just, ya know, get her outta this camp for a bit. I figure... she could use some air.” His words hung in the air, but his eyes seemed distant, almost like he was hoping for a miracle.

You stiffened immediately, your brows furrowing in disbelief. You hadn’t been in the mood for any of this, and you weren’t sure how you felt about Arthur’s proposal. "I am absolutely fine staying here, got it?"

Arthur’s jaw tightened as he stared at your hunched frame, your defiance practically radiating off you. His voice softened, though there was a trace of frustration. “You’re not fine. Not always, and not here.”

You turned sharply, glaring at him with a fire that made his breath hitch for a moment. “What do you know about what I need, huh? You think you can just waltz in here and decide things for me? I said I am not going so I am not!”

Arthur took a step back, but not because he was intimidated. He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right words. “Ain’t about me decidin’ nothin’. You don’t even gotta like me. But you deserve better than to keep hiding in this damn camp, snappin' at everyone tryin' to care for you.”

 "You’ve got some nerve asking me that. I don't need anyone taking me anywhere. Just 'cause you brought me a damn scarf doesn’t mean I owe you a thing."

Arthur seemed to bristle at your sharp reaction, but Hosea leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, studying the both of you with a quiet smile. He wasn’t offended, he understood.

Your glare didn’t falter, but Hosea cleared his throat before you could respond. “He’s got a point, you know.” His tone was calm, measured. “A little ride won’t kill you.”

You crossed your arms. “I said no Papa and that means, NO."

Arthur stepped closer again, his voice lower now, almost pleading. “I ain't Dutch. I ain’t gonna force ya into anything. But sometimes, you gotta trust someone’s tryin’ to help, even if it don’t make sense at first.. Just...give me a chance...please.”

Before you could reply, the unmistakable sound of Dutch’s boots approached. “Well, isn’t this cozy,” Dutch drawled, stepping into the space with a deliberate slowness that made everyone tense. He looked from Arthur to you, a sly smile curling on his lips. “Arthur, you’re not causin’ any trouble now, are you?”

Arthur’s shoulders squared. “Just talkin’. Nothin’ more.”

Dutch’s gaze flicked between the two of you, his smile growing sharper. “Talkin’, huh? Always knew you had a soft spot, Arthur. You got that puppy-dog look about you. But...you sure you’re barkin’ up the right tree here?”

The air went cold, and you froze, your grip tightening on the knife in your hand. Dutch’s words stung, a mixture of insult and insinuation that made your face burn with anger and shame.

“Dutch,” Hosea interjected, standing up from his crate, his tone calm but firm. “C'mon...don't say that."

Dutch laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave y’all to it. Just a little friendly advice, Arthur. Watch where you step. You wouldn’t want to trip.” With that, he turned on his heel and sauntered off, his laughter echoing behind him. Hosea shot Arthur a brief look before following after Dutch, likely to smooth things over or ensure the situation didn’t escalate further.

Arthur lingered awkwardly near the table. His fingers toyed with the brim of his hat, his eyes darting between you and the ground as though he couldn’t quite decide where to settle. He hesitated, his hand lifting slightly as if to reach out to you, his face a mix of guilt and frustration. “Look, I-”

You sighed, stabbing the knife into the cutting board and crossing your arms. "What? Just go away."

Arthur flinched, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Didn’t mean to bother you,” he muttered, his voice low and almost apologetic. “Just...ignore what he said.”

"But what he said was right."

"No, it wasn't." He looked up then, the defensiveness clear as day in his eyes. “It ain’t like that,” he said, his voice firmer now. “Dutch--he just likes to run his mouth. Don’t mean nothin’.”

“Doesn’t it?” you challenged, your tone sharp. “You didn’t exactly deny it back there.”

Arthur hesitated, his jaw tightening as though he was weighing his next words carefully. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Look, I ain’t tryin’ to make your life harder. I thought maybe... I don’t know. Thought you’d wanna get out for a bit. Thought it might help.”

“Help with what, exactly?” You gestured around you, exasperated.

“I just… I thought it’d be nice. Thought maybe you’d... enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it?” you repeated, incredulous. “Arthur, I don’t even know what you’re trying to do here. Why you’re trying so hard.”

His jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides before relaxing again. “Maybe I am tryin’,” he admitted, his voice low and uneven. “Don’t know why you think that’s a crime.”

“I didn’t ask for any of it,” you said, your tone quieter now, less biting. “I didn’t ask for you to care.”

He laughed softly, a bitter sound that barely reached his lips. “Yeah. I know. But it ain’t somethin’ I can help. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“You’re making it more complicated, you know.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’d rather be here makin’ things complicated than not be here at all.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between you, suffocating and undeniable. You didn’t know what to do with it, with him, with any of this. So you did what you always did, you deflected.

“I’ve got work to do,” you said, pushing off the crate and brushing past him towards the wagon. As you walked past him, your voice cut through the heavy silence, sharp and low enough that he almost missed it.

"Why don’t you take all this energy and use it on something worthwhile? Perhaps finding the right tree." You chuckled tauntingly as you went inside the wagon.

He didn’t try to stop you, didn’t say anything else, not wanting to draw too much attention to the scene. With a heavy sigh, he decided to go for a ride.

❀˖°

When he returned later that night, most of the camp was either finishing up their dinner, indulging in late-night games, or sitting quietly by the fire.

He didn’t sense your presence anywhere, and he figured you were probably in your tent, finally savoring some solitude after a long day of work and being surrounded by the others. But he also knew that Dutch’s words from earlier weren’t easy to shake off, especially for you. Your blood was likely still boiling. Worse, you must be hurt too.

Taking advantage of everyone being preoccupied, his steps naturally gravitated toward your tent, your sanctuary. A place he had only ever dared to dream of being close to. What was it like inside? He often wondered. Would the air inside smell faintly of you? Would he ever be someone who belonged in your space? He imagined a future where he could step into it freely, with no hesitation, no uncertainty. A time when he wouldn’t even need to knock when he could enter with a smile on his face and a gift in his hand, your relationship so natural and warm that it felt like home.

But maybe that was the point. You didn’t need anyone in that space, and a part of him liked that. Liked that you existed here, hidden away, out of reach of the world’s harsh gaze. It wasn’t fair or right, but it soothed something deep and primal in him. If he had his way, the world would never touch you. You’d stay tucked away where only he could find you as if this tent was built for the two of you alone. Still, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to see you in his world, in his tent, on his bed, wrapped up in everything that was his.

Hidden away, yes, but hidden with him.

He cleared his throat, his eyes too shy to even glance fully inside, though the tent flap hung half-open.

"Who is it now?"

"Me... I--uh...can I?"

A soft, irritated sound followed, then your voice gave reluctant confirmation. “Leave the flap wide open.”

He obeyed, pushing the fabric aside, the cool night air spilling in. Then he stood there like a fool, frozen for several seconds as his eyes found you sitting on the edge of the cot, one leg bouncing with impatience. Enchanting nonetheless.

“Well? What now?”

The sharpness of your tone jolted him back to his senses. For a moment, he still couldn’t believe you’d allowed him inside. Maybe you were too tired to step out yourself, but he couldn’t help feeling grateful anyway.

Taking a cautious step closer, his gaze drifted and landed on the scarf in the corner, dangling from the back of a chair.

At least you kept it.

You kept it.

That was enough for him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he dropped to his knee in front of you, his height aligning perfectly with yours now. The act wasn’t one of submission but of devotion, a silent acknowledgment that your hatred, cold and unyielding, loomed larger than the fire of his love. And yet, he stayed there, resolute.

If he had to kneel to earn even a fragment of your gaze, he would. If being this close meant bearing the weight of your disdain, so be it. Because in this moment, it wasn’t his pride that mattered, it was you.

Your first instinct was shock. His sudden closeness threw you off, but as the silence stretched and his hesitation became almost unbearable, you decided to speak, cutting through the tension.

“I think you’re only acting like this because Dutch reckons it’s the best way to keep me in line. So that you can scare me or something. Y’know, keep me stuck in this camp so Pa’s happy, Dutch is happy, and my life here is just that much more miserable.”

Arthur’s brows furrowed immediately, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. “No,” he said firmly, his voice quiet but resolute. “It ain’t like that. It ain’t even close to that.”

He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting lightly on his knees as he searched for the right words. “Do I look like someone who’d think that way? Or...who’d go along with somethin’ like that? Do you really think Hosea would do that to you? Think about you like that?” His voice softened at the edges, but there was an undeniable conviction in it.

“You ain’t some animal we gotta control, alright?” He shook his head, as if shaking off the very thought of it. “You’re...more than that. Always have been."

Arthur sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I know...there’s a whole lotta differences between us. But...I can’t help myself, y’know? I’ve tried. Lord knows I’ve tried.” His words faltered, and he cursed under his breath.

Damn, I forgot half of what I wanted to say.

You tilted your head, watching him struggle, your patience wearing thin.

He took a deep breath and pressed on, his voice quieter but no less earnest. “I don’t deserve this, I know that. Hell, you don’t deserve this, either. But one thing I can promise you, right here, right now...I’ll make this better. I’ll try every damn day to make your life here bearable, to give you somethin’ better. Until...”

He stopped himself, biting back the words he wasn’t sure you were ready to hear. “Until I can give you somethin’ far better than all this.”

He paused, his jaw tightening before he met your eyes again. “And no one, not a damn soul, will have the guts to disrespect you here. Not while I’m around.”

You raised a brow, skepticism clear in your voice. “Not even Dutch?”

Arthur swallowed hard, but he nodded firmly. “Yeah....not even him.”

Without thinking, he reached out and grasped your hands, his touch rough but grounding. He held on like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment, his eyes searching yours for any sign of trust, of understanding, of...hope.

"But why though? All of a sudden? And me?"

"I...wish I knew. But I am helpless right now. Helpless against these questions and these...feelings."

His eyes searched yours, desperate and pleading, but your words cut through him like a knife.

“If this is all true, then...why didn’t your lover, what was her name? Oh yeah, Mary, who even loved you, stick around?”

Arthur flinched as if you’d struck him. His heart trembled at the weight of your words, your tone unclear, was it innocent? Genuine? Or just plain cruel?

"That...that was different."

Your gaze didn’t waver, and your tongue stayed edged. “Okay but if she didn’t trust you enough to stay, then why should I? We’re not even-”

He moved before you could finish, his jaw tightening as he stood. With a single step, he reached for the scarf draped over the chair. Silent and deliberate, he placed it on the bed beside you, his every motion measured.

You watched him, confused and uncertain, as he pulled a few crumpled bills from his pocket. He smoothed them flat and placed them in the middle of the scarf. His hands moved deftly, folding the fabric around the money with a care that felt almost reverent.

Finally, he turned to you, kneeling once more. His rough, calloused hands gently wrapped around yours, closing your fingers firmly over the bundle. His touch was warm, grounding, yet carried the weight of something far greater.

“Here,” he said, his voice low but steady. “This...this is the only proof I can give you. I’ll keep fillin’ it, day by day, until we’ve got enough to leave. And you’ll keep it safe. You’ll keep it with you. It's yours. Only yours."

And I am too.

"I know...that the money is not gonna come from honest ways which you hate of course, but...there's no other way it can be done...but it will be done, alright?"

His breath hitched as he leaned closer, his shadow falling over you like a shroud. The proximity made your heart thrum unevenly, though you’d never admit it.

You stared at the scarf in your hands, his grip firm but trembling ever so slightly. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up, to meet his eyes. A dozen questions churned in your mind, your heart caught between disbelief and something else you couldn’t name.

Why was he doing this? Why for you? Damn, you never pegged him for such a fool.

It was as if he could sense the weight of your weariness. His voice softened, low and earnest.

“I just want you to greet me every time I come back…and every time I go. With that smile of yours.” He paused, his gaze dropping for a moment, as though the vulnerability of his words was too much. “That’s all I ask of you...that’s all this idiot asks of you.”

And to have you in my arms every night.

The thought came unbidden, a longing too deep and too dangerous to voice aloud. No, he couldn’t say that, not yet. It was too much to ask.

You blinked at him, caught off guard, your lips parting slightly as if to respond. “Um...I don't--” You cleared your throat, but the words still wouldn’t come.

When you finally looked up, he saw it, emotions swirling in your eyes, unguarded for once. Fear, confusion, a flicker of nervousness. But there was something else, something softer, buried beneath it all. His heart, racing only moments ago, steadied as if your gaze alone could calm him.

Unable to stop himself, he leaned closer, closing the space between you. His lips brushed the top of your head in a tender kiss, one that lingered longer than it should have.

You flinched a little but didn't pull away, and that, to him, was enough. A sign of acceptance, no matter how small.

The scent of your hair, the warmth of your presence, it was intoxicating. For the first time, he felt hope unfurling in his chest. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours once more. He didn’t say anything else, not wanting to break the fragile moment, and instead rose to his feet. His shadow stretched across the tent as he turned toward the flap, his steps deliberate and slow.

And just before he stepped out into the night, he glanced over his shoulder. “Goodnight, darlin’.”

Tonight, he might finally be able to sleep.

Arthur lay down on his cot, an idiotic smile tugging at his lips as he stared at the hat resting on the table. It wasn’t just a hat, it was your approval, your silent acknowledgment, your acceptance. For the first time in a long while, he felt...hopeful.

And now, he thought, he’d finally be able to wear it.

❀˖°

The outlaw's gaze drifted to the sketches, one was complete, your softer expression, that innocent curiosity you had when your guard wasn’t up. The other remained unfinished, a portrait of your infamous frown. Not that he hated it, hell, that frown had a charm of its own, sharp and stubborn. But something about leaving it incomplete felt right. He decided it would remain that way. He didn’t want to immortalise that side of you, not in his art or heart.

Arthur reached for the softer sketch, running a thumb over the lines as if touching the paper could bring you closer to him. He studied it, his heart aching with an almost unbearable tenderness.

No, you deserved better. You deserved to keep smiling. And if it took him a lifetime to make that happen, so be it.

Hosea watched from a distance, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of his lips as Arthur hugged your stiff form, bidding you farewell. He observed the way Arthur's demeanour had softened, the usual rough edges of the man becoming more relaxed in your presence. The smile and the way he tipped his hat to you before mounting the horse were enough to confirm the change that had occurred in him.

Arthur's gaze briefly flicked over to where Hosea stood, his eyes meeting the older man’s. With a small, almost sheepish nod of acknowledgment, Arthur gave a quick tip of his head. It was subtle, but Hosea had known him long enough to recognize the shift in his posture, the lightness in his eyes.

The mentor's smile deepened, though there was a softness to it that spoke of more than just amusement. It was the kind of smile a father would give when he saw something unexpected in a child, something tender, something hopeful.

It was good to see Arthur's content again. What truly surprised him, though, was that it was his daughter who had made it possible after all this time. The last person he imagined to ever do that and that made him chuckle quietly.

A match made in heaven indeed...

(AN: •⩊• u better interact for high honour++)

[silversnakes-yan]

*chanting cheerfully.*

JASON SMUT! JASON SMUT! JASON SMUT! JASON SMUT! JASON SMUT! JASON SMUT!

Just, Jason smut w/ a virgin reader.

-🌺

✲𝓙𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝔀/ 𝓪 𝓿𝓲𝓻𝓰𝓲𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻✲

Jason definitely already knows you’re inexperienced. He just has a good way of reading people. He won’t jump at just any opportunity to get you squirming underneath him. No, he likes to play with his prey before striking.

He’ll make sly but clearly inappropriate jokes and leave lingering touched that cause your spine to shiver. This can go on for days. He’s patient after all. After you’re all flustered and blushing that’s when he goes in for the kill.

He’ll have you cornered, flushed and practically begging for him to do something. Anything. But Jason’s not the type to give so easily. He wants you to beg and plead. He’ll force you to tell him exactly what you want in explicit detail before his hands snake under your clothes.

Gentle is not a term in his vocabulary. However, he might take it slower if you ask nicely. Expect to be tied down. Jason doesn’t like to be touched. He wants you completely at his mercy. He’ll tease and overstimulate you with his sharp tongue and dexterous fingers until you’re a crying mess.

Once Jason’s sunk into your heat, he’ll give you a moment to adjust but the teasing won’t stop. His pace is rough and unrelenting. When he feels you’re nearly shattering, he’s going harder. The tears on your face from the pleasure cause him to go over the edge. A whiney moan would leave his lips before he realizes. Though, afterwards he’d threaten you to take it to the grave.

Jason wants to make sure that he’s your first and your last. That the memory of him will be imprinted in your mind and on your body. So no one else would dare touch you.

[baby-tini]

Darling:"we must break up you fucking cheater"

Yandere Mikey:"w-what? Wdym by cheater?!"

Darling:"I had a dream where you kissed another person, dont try to lie your way out"

Ahh, you'll get very split reactions, depending on which Mikey we're talking about..

Toman!Mikey just looks at you with a, "are you serious" face, he can't believe you just called him a cheater because you dreamed about something like that... he's actually quite insulted that you'd even accuse him of something like that, he's obsessed with you, so obsessed you don't even fucking understand. Now, he obviously doesn't take the break up thing serious because.. it's a pretty unserious situation, in his eyes anyway. But, if it's that serious to you... he's very quick too shut it down, you're not leaving him at all, muchless over a stupid fucking dream.

Manila!Mikey though, he just laughs in your face, you're not leaving him, ever. Muchless because he "cheated" in a dream. He doesn't take anything you say serious and with the whole cheating thing.. baby, he doesn't even leave the house, because he a wanted fucking criminal on the run, how the fuck could he ever cheat on you? Where would he find the time baby?... that's right, use that tiny little brain of yours.. he can't.

Kanto!Mikey immediately blows you off. You do understand just how busy he is, right baby? He doesn't even have the time too fuck you the way he wants, what makes you think he has the time too go fuck other women? Think before you speak last time, you're lucky he's feeling nice today.

Bonten!Mikey just stares, he's so confused, what do you mean he cheated on you in a dream? It's a dream angel, it's fake, there's no way you're being serious. But, if you are being serious and even go as far as too ignore him?!?! He just... looses it in that moment, because you are not going too ignore him over some bullshit dream, does he need too fuck you? Does he need too make you watch him fuck you? Keep your eyes on the mirror, as he ruts his hips into your ass?... ahh, he gets it now, he's fucked all the sense out of you, now, he loves fucking you stupid when he can, but.. it seems, that leads too problems like this..

Street Racer!Mikey is more pouty then anything, he's pretty chill and playful about it. He very obviously doesn't take you serious, he does play into you about it though, he'll "apologize" stating that the dream version of him is an awful person and he would never ever hurt you in such a way as he rubs his hand up your arm and places kisses on your cheeks.

[starzgaze]

Just a though rmb that time u made hae-in and Jinwoo fight for y/n? I just rmbered it randomly and I propose:

Hs Jinwoo and Hae-in both regressing and they're pining for Y/N who used to be a mage/healer/support for them.

Ur local hottest boy in school + The it girl and Track Running champion of another school fighting for y/n's hand

this has been living rent free in my head to the point ive unconsciously drawn it LMAO so art down below if u scrolllll

okay but this concept with an extremely mundane [name]?? hello especially someone who's just trying to get past school with average grades and average effort then maybe with a few volunteering here and there where it's coincidentally being the assistant for the coah in the track and field team.

[name] being known for helping a few people and having an affinity when it comes to patching up people and helping them so volunteer work is just light work for them so they didn't mind as much when the things they do during their time in the track and field team is tossing water to the runners and sometimes fixing them up if they trip or break an ankle. being part of the red cross club last year really helps in these situations.

then [name] meets jinwoo who's the new member in the team and someone who just suddenly transferred to the school, saying it was about his father getting a promotion and they needed to move places.

[name] believes this because everyone has their own situations but it was in fact jinwoo finally finding out what school [name] was in after a few years of trying to search for them then he transferred school, not caring if it's the middle of the school year. of course [name] doesn't know this.

then those two gets closer and jinwoo tries to charm [name] with silly jokes and impressive stamina and speed whenever he's on the field, leaving [name] awe struck. it was obvious to everybody else that the new extremely handsome hotshot of the track and field team had a little thing for the stupidly mundane volunteer who only took the job because they needed something for their community service hours.

just as about this man was gonna ask [name] out the coach of the track and field team announces that now on during after class practices another student from a different school will be attending their training program and blow and behold it's fucking cha hae-in much to jinwoo's dismasy.

hae-in isn't much experienced with this whole regression thing so she's less prepared compared to jinwoo but her persistence and determination just to see her sweet little [name] again what helped her pulled through and landed her here.

hae-in took the program through some connections and begging to her coach to let her train under a different school, claiming it will help her grow and the coach believed her because how can you deny your favourite athlete that's stupidily amazing in the sport? anyway hae-in successfully got into [name]'s school without moving in even if it's not the whole day, seeing [name] was more than enough for her.

that is until she saw her number one rival at the corner, hae-in compares him to a cockroach with how he can't leave her sigh and his sense of fashion that's constantly dark themed. she's low-key pissed that he's here, like just leave her alone and her cutie [name] that's not for him.

[name] spends more time with the two, now hae-in is in the picture. they would help hae-in whenever she would get a sprain and give her tips on what to do to alleviate the pain and get better asap before the regionals or take her out to hang out because it was easier being the same gender. jinwoo is fuminggg at this because it took him like months to do that and for hae-in it took like a measly few weeks?? that's so unfair

suddenly the two get into little competitions with eachother trying to impress [name] and of course they noticed but they don't believe that the two most sought after players in the school or even the region would have a thing for them, they're just good friends.

that drives them insane but it's okay one of them will make you realize it's more than that!! it's just a matter of time and effort you'll be in their arms.

btw imagine after school going out with the two and you guys eat at some street vendor spot then they argue who could pay. they get so distracted with arguing you just pay for yourself as you watch with the street vendor the two fighting.

[heartfullofleeches]

Mime Darling as a stripper tho- Maybe the murder clown gang is planning a big heist at a popular club/casino and they decide to play it safe for once with eyes on the inside. Imagine the tricks they could get up to with their powers-

-

Murder Clown: Damn- You look good, Mimey. Still short tho-

[Mime Darling rolls their eyes - pushing the clown backwards into an invisible chair. They mount their teammate, throwing an leg over the clown's shoulder with a tilt of their head that reads "You were saying?~"]

Mime Darling: :)?

Murder Clown: ....I stand corrected

-

Customer: That a fucking mime? Sheesh, they'll let anyone on stage.

[Mime Darling winks at them, blowing a kiss]

Customer: Y'know...on second thought....

Murder Clown sitting behind them - kissstick stain on their cheek: That wasn't meant for you, buddy.

-

Murder Clown: Alright, Mimey - got your protection incase anything goes wrong tonight?

[Mime Darling nods their head - rolling up their skirt and showing off their bare thigh]

Murder Clown: I don't see anything

[Mime Darling rolls their eyes again - grabbing the clown's hand and resting it on their thigh where they feel the outline of a gun. The clown's blush shows through their many layers of makeup.]

Murder Clown: Whelp - I'm even more aroused than I was ten seconds ago. We still got like an hour before everyone else is ready. Wanna pass the time in that closet over there?