#-> love how you explained this in the tags

[claitea]

ok sorry i just really loved the thought of n arguing with this little thing i wanted to draw it

Do you ever think about how almost all of N’s Pokémon throughout the first games were one offs he released after he battled you, how he cared about them all deeply enough that he thought it would be selfish to have them battle more than necessary. And do you ever think about how this is the case with all his Pokémon EXCEPT his Klinklang in the final battle at the league, where the second to last battle he had a Klink and this Klinklang is very likely that same Pokémon? Do you think this was a visual representation of his mindset wavering from a fixed point? How that Klink refused to leave him right away and he couldn’t bring himself to force them to leave because his mind is in so many different directions? He can keep them around just a little longer until he becomes champion, it won’t be long, he can bend things some so long as he doesn’t fully stray from his path…right?

Or is that just me am I the only one willing to be insane about Klinklang of all Pokémon

[ghostofsnails]

so did you guys know theres this character called tristan vik disventure camp and

[frickingnerd]

kissing ren to shut him up

pairing: ren amamiya / akira kurusu / joker x gn!reader

tags: silly & wholesome fluff, flustered/blushing!ren, established romantic relationship, phantom thief!reader

your boyfriend is the leader of the phantom thieves, always looking cool and effortless when he's fighting and it seems like nothing can phase him!

however, you know that your boyfriend has one weakness: you! or more specifically, sudden affection from you!

it's amusing how quickly your boyfriend can go from being the coolest and most relaxed person in the room to a flustered and blushing mess!

especially when you're out with your friends, whether it's hanging out after school or fighting in mementos, you love to find moments to catch ren off guard!

he'll be explaining the strategy going forward on how to fight the oncoming shadows within mementos, when you suddenly pull him into a kiss and shut him up within seconds

you're not sure if he even notices, but ren always freezes for a couple seconds afterwards, standing completely still as his cheeks turn red, before he snaps back into reality and mumbles out something like “w-what was i just saying…?”

you make sure to only use that technique on him when the stakes are low! you'd never do such a thing before a big fight or within a palace. but during training in mementos, you like to mess with him occasionally…

and it's entertaining for the other phantom thieves as well! especially ryuji and ann tease ren about how flustered you manage to make him!

[lovely-hani]

hi, hi!! so...i have this idea for a (gender neutral) non-mc x sylus fic!

—

basically, you're a third year surgical resident at akso hospital, who has been pining over dr. zayne li for years. he had been your classmate in medical school for a brief period of time before he graduated early, and while he respects you as a co-worker, he has never seen you as anything more than a friend. you also notice how he speaks with a certain deepspace hunter whenever she visits the hospital. his longing glances, his gentle touches, his patient voice: you were very familiar with what a man looked like when he was in love. and so, you love him from afar.

one late night, however, zayne and ms. hunter stop you right before you leave the hospital. they explain that one of ms. hunter's "friends" had been critically injured and needed surgery. the "friend" in question was slung between the two of them, extremely bruised and bloodied, and though zayne seemed extremely distrustful toward the white-haired man, you know that he would always follow ms. hunter's requests.

they also explain why they need your help specifically:

the man is a wanted criminal, and they know that you could be trusted with a covert surgery.

he had been injured in the back of his head, and even though you have yet to finish your general surgical residency, you have more knowledge about this kind of procedure than zayne. (you were planning to specialize in neurosurgery, after all.)

so, instead of going home to watch another episode of your favorite k-drama, you were stuck at the hospital at three am, half-assing an illegal surgery for the man you love and the woman that he loves.

you volunteer to house the man in your apartment, and he eventually introduces himself to you after sleeping for nearly a day. before he leaves, sylus—who you learn to be the leader of onychinus—strikes a deal with you. he needs your help to convince ms. hunter to resonate with him, and in exchange, perhaps dr. zayne li would have a bit more free time on his hands. you initially reject his offer, but sylus explains that he would also pay for your medical school tuition.

so, cue you and sylus attempting to woo ms. hunter and both your feelings and his feelings becoming messier and messier.

—

anyways, if u guys want to read this, pls lmk if u want to be tagged, hehe! also, i need help figuring out what name to give ms. hunter because it might be pretty awkward trying to call her several nicknames for the entire fic series.

another note: it will be slightly canon divergent because sylus does not entirely remember his past life with mc.

as for a title...i am currently thinking about naming this series "to be your first choice" :) i think that this title gives a little bit of a hint as to what the overarching theme of this fic will be, hehe.

[eliasorchard]

a place to belong — william j. moriarty x wife!reader

tags: fluff, family dynamics, comfort and care, short drabble

author: for rose from the ask here. i always love her little ideas lol, they're so cute. also, this is kinda funny because i had the freakiest rap playing in the bg while i wrote this 😭

"this will be your room for the next few days," william stated, pushing open a door to reveal a spacious chamber, warmly lit and outfitted with four small beds, each with a thick quilt. "make yourselves comfortable."

he turned to look at the children—a ragtag bunch, clothes tattered, face smudged with dirt and eyes wide with awe and cautiousness all at once. they limped as they stepped inside, blood slowly dousing the bandages they had just been treated with before coming here.

the eldest kid, perhaps twelve, stepped forward cautiously—taking a protective stance of the three kids behind. the kid audibly gulped, hesitation clear on her face before finally speaking. "...why are you helping us?"

william's gaze softened just slightly. "because i can."

before he could elaborate, a voice called from behind. "william? i thought i heard you come in—" you appeared at the doorway, clothed in your nightdress. your face swept over the scene, the wounded children clustered together, scared and looking like cornered animals, and softened. "and who are these little ones?"

"they've had a rough time," william smiled warmly at you, his expression becoming gentle upon seeing you. "i thought it would be best if they stay here while they recover."

"alright then." you said, nodding your head. you approached them slowly, before crouching to their level. "i'm (name). you'll be safe here, i promise." a pause, and then: "have you eaten?"

the youngest, a boy about six, shook his head. the others followed suit. "well," you got off your knees. "that won't do. let's see about getting you all fed. how does stew sound? louis has only made fresh bread today, too."

the children exchanged hesitant glances, but when the youngest nodded, the others followed—guarded faces easing a little.

over the next few days, your warmth had gradually brought them out of their shells. during the day, you led them through the gardens, and they all seemed impressed by flowers and herbs. even fred looked happy teaching them the names of the flora growing there. the children shared their meals with you, and at night—you read to them before they fell asleep.

the younger two children followed you like shadows while the older ones began to pepper you with questions about the manor and it's mysterious rooms that they weren't allowed in. they really thought of you as a mother figure—one time, the youngest one had even accidentally let the word slip, calling you 'mom'.

it was the younger girl who asked one evening, after supper. "can we see mr. william's study, mrs. (name)?"

the other children perked up at the idea, their curiosity plain and present on their faces. you paused, pretending to consider.

"his study?" you whispered, feigning shock. "hmmm, i'm not sure. that's where he keeps all his most serious and boring things. are you sure you children are ready for such a place?"

the young boy tugged on your sleeve—giving you the biggest puppy eyes. "...please, mrs. (name)?"

you had to bite the inside of your cheek to hide the grin that was creeping it's way up your face. you sighed theatrically. "alright, but you all must be very quiet. agreed?"

the study was dim and imposing, it's walls lined with shelves brimming with books, maps and strange instruments. the children tiptoed their way in, eyes wide as saucers.

"wow! look at this!" one of the girls whispered, pointing to a celestial globe on the desk. another flipped through a book of intricate mathematical diagrams, while the remaining two crowded around a large map pinned to one of the walls.

you moved among them, explaining what you knew. you picked up an item, pretending to use it—which made the children giggle. their innocent laughter rang softly through the room.

unbeknownst to them, william stood just outside the door—leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. he watched quietly, a faint and warm smile playing on his lips.

"mrs. (name)," one of the children curiously inquired, pointing at an item on the low shelf. "what's this thing?"

before you could answer, william cleared his throat. "that," he explained as he stepped inside of the room. "is an astrolabe."

the children flinched, caught in the act. they face him slowly, the youngest muttering a little "oops." you shrug your shoulders, speaking smoothly. "we were just.... admiring your collection."

"is that so?" william asked, raising an eyebrow but his tone was mild. he walked to his desk and picked up the celestial globe. "If you're going to explore, you might as well learn something."

he set the globe on the table and motioned for them to gather around. the children hesitated at first, but eventually crowded close as william began to explain the constellations. his voice was calm and patient and he seemed to take genuine satisfaction in their wide-eyed fascination, unable to stifle his soft laughs at the children's amused "ooh"s and "ah"s.

you leaned against one of the bookshelves, watching the scene unfold in front of you. warmly smiling your husband guide their little hands over the globe—it was an endearing sight.

[helenisaweirdo]

hatred.

oliver aiku x fem!reader, accidental pregnancy, aiku is an asshole at the beginning, reader is of age, angst to comfort, happy ending

a/n: the reason that barou is so close to reader is because reader went to the same high school as oliver did (as the soccer team manager), and in the light novel it’s canon that oliver and barou played against each other in high school. so barou and reader has met before.

———

november 2, 2018

the two lines on the small screen was like being mocked by your best friend behind your back.

you had begged, prayed, even did rituals hoping that this wouldn’t be the case. but your gut instantly dropped when the two lines made it’s way to the small screen on the stick. nonononononononono—! why? why did this have to happen to you? you placed one hand on your lower abdomen, rubbing it in circles.

you shouldn’t abort your child. they didn’t do anything wrong, and you were the one who told him about wanting to be a mother one day, after all. all those times that you had treated the small kids at his soccer games so kindly right in front of him…it was only to be expected of that he was the one to ultimately get you pregnant.

oliver aiku.

captain of the U20 team, infamous womanizer, and annoying handsome asshole. and the man who just single-handedly ruined your life.

you’re slipping off the cool metal of the white gold band on your left ring finger, throwing it onto the floor and sitting down next to it, hugging your knees and letting out choked sobs. was the darry ring just another act of purposeful hurt, too? oliver wasn’t someone to settle down for a family life, let alone get married, so was the darry ring just to earn your trust?

and your mind flashes to the night you both broke up. that snowy night, where you had slapped him straight across the face, when you had screamed at him for cheating on you with another girl. one of his ex flings that told you that they hooked up again…while he was still dating you.

but now that you think about it again, why was he so quiet that night? wouldn’t he usually try to explain himself or try to make peace between the two of you?

you shake your head, picking up the ring from the floor and staring at it once again. adorned with diamonds and my love for you, he had told you when he first gave it to you. it was all a lie, it must have been. otherwise he would have never cheated on you.

———

november 6, 2018

“i was wondering if…um…”

“yes?”

you’re staring at the woman in front of you. she’s gorgeous, you think. oliver would probably leave you for her in a heartbeat. anri teieri are the boldly written words on her name tag. “if i do this job, of you know, being the manager of blue lock and all. would it be likely that i’ll be able to see oliver aiku?”

you had deleted his contact, blocked his email, and blocked all of his social media accounts when you both broke up. you couldn’t remember any of his information, either. and oliver being oliver, he wasn’t an easy person to reach. you eventually came to the conclusion to attend online classes for your college and work at blue lock.

“well, yes, it’s practically a guarantee. he’s the captain of the U20 team, after all. but, Miss…” anri looks down at your stomach, eyebrows knitted together. “are you sure you’re in any condition to work? especially cleaning up after and cooking for teenage boys? i don’t want you to injure yourself, especially with a baby. you’re—how many months in?”

“im at 1 month. 6 weeks, to be exact. and its babies. im having twins.” you muttered. “its alright, it can help me practice cooking and cleaning for the kids. you know how children are—they’re always either making messes or hungry.” you place a hand on your abdomen. “im sure it will be alright. but thank you for your concern, anri.”

“you’re 19, 3 years younger than me…oh, you poor girl. i’ll just need you to sign some papers first and make a few phone calls with mr ego, and we’ll be set.” anri shakes your hand firmly before a soft smile graces her lips. “you’ll be an excellent mother. don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“thank you.” you smile back meekly, preparing yourself for the days of hell of taking care of sweaty teenage boys. but hey, considering how you used to be the manager of your high school boys soccer team (with oliver on it, no less), you’re probably already used to it.

———

february 26 2019

“you need me to take over cleaning for you?”

barou sits down next to you, sliding a bowl of rice of some dishes (that are beneficial for pregnant women, you notice) in front of you. “if you don’t mind.” you reply, picking up a pair of chopsticks and beginning to devour the food.

“well, i was planning on doing so anyway. it’s not good for a pregnant woman to do any work, even if you’re only on your fourth month.” barou begins to eat his own portion of rice. “i already finished all of my training for the U20 match tomorrow anyways.”

“thanks, barou.”

after a fair amount of time, you’ve only told the people at blue lock who you knew wouldn’t freak out about you pregnancy: which wasn’t much. isagi, yukimiya, kunigami, barou, kurona, hiori, and nanase. you would only tell everyone else when your stomach grew a considerable amount, enough to single-handedly show that you were pregnant.

“you must be training hard to surpass isagi. that’s amazing, barou.” you begin, taking a glance at how barou wolfs down his food. he nods from under the bowl. you notice how he’s also less…irritated with you. at least, he always tries to be. even if you make a stupid mistake or dirties certain things that were once clean, barou takes one look at your abdomen before just cleaning it again. a classic gentleman—why the hell didn’t he have a girlfriend yet?

—

you couldn’t sleep that night. you moved the mattress up, you moved the mattress down, you pulled the blankets up, you pulled the blankets down. you opened the girls, you closed the lights. and yet you still couldn’t sleep.

finally, you began rubbing your stomach in circles. “my sweeties, tomorrow you’ll finally be able to hear your dad’s voice for the first time. and if all goes well, you’ll both be able to meet him when you’re both due in august.”

after a few more kicks and hushed promises, you could finally dear your eyelids growing heavy, and you began a dreamless rest.

———

february 27 (the day of the U20 match)

you sat on the bench of the changing room for the U20 team. blue lock had already won, and for privacy, the U20 team left the changing room, leaving only you and oliver inside after some negotiations. oliver’s eyes are fixated on you, and they can’t seem to pull away.

“oliver,” you began, sighing. “im going to make this quick because i know that you’re fangirls are too impatient to wait for you for so long. im pregnant,” you ignored the way that his jaw went slack. “your kids, twins, a boy and a girl. they’re both due in august. do you want both, should i have both, should we each raise one—“

“marry me.”

now it was your turn for your jaw to go slack.

“what—? but you fucking cheated on me!”

oliver’s lips pressed into a thin line. “i’ve cheated on tens of women before, but i’ve never once cheated on you. you’re the only one that i’ll never cheat on. akamei was just a liar who wanted me to take her back, but lying to the love of my life wasn’t the best way to go about it.

“i don’t blame you if you still don’t trust me, but at least let me marry you and let me be a good father to our kids. they deserve it, and you deserve it too for staying strong for months of being a single pregnant mom.”

tears began to pool at your eyes, and your chest felt tight. “fuck, since when were you so mature, oliver?” you threw yourself into his arms, soft sniffles escaping you and onto his shoulders.

“it’s not that im mature, i just really love you.”

———

january 3, 2025

“mama, did you and daddy have a fairytale love story too?”

your daughter olivia’s words make you freeze in your steps. after once against reading her a classic lover story (Cinderella) as a nighttime story, your daughter has been obsessed with them…not a good thing.

“of course they did! just look at them now!” your son oscar from right next to her replied. you gulped before nodding shakily.

“yep…yep! goodnight, guys! i love you both!” you scurried out of the room and into your shared room with oliver, where he laid relaxed on the bed.

“you seem tense.”

“yeah, olivia just fucking asked if we had a fairytale love story, no shit.”

“we did!”

“fuck you.”

———

FIN.

[zepskies]

Outlander - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? 

AN: Ready for some more Cowboy Dean? Here we go with Outlander Part 1! This is a sequel story directly following The Honorable Choice, where Dean not only saves the member of a Native American tribe, but falls in love with her. (She saves him a lot in return.) Now, he’ll have to learn how to live in her world if he wants to stay with her.

This sequel series will be 4 parts! 💜

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a fair bit of research for this now ongoing series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Word Count: 5.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Suggestiveness/implied smut and spice, hunting (in the more traditional sense), angst, hurt/comfort, and romantic fluff. **Pronunciation guide at the end!

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: Two Worlds

Her people call this river Little Cheyenne. It’s because Big Cheyenne cuts through the land of the Sioux Indians by half, but Little Cheyenne almost meets it in the south, stretching all the way up to the Black Hills.

Mila’s tribe has always lived near this river. Its waters have bled red during battles with other tribes, and sometimes during battles with White Men.

The White Men’s fort, the one her husband came from, lies farther down in the south. The tribe had to move their village higher north along the river after Mila returned with Dean Winchester, just to be safe.

On a cloudy afternoon, Mila scrubs at a bundle of dirty clothes until they’re clean. She rinses them off in the river and is thorough about her work, but she knows she can’t be here much longer. She has a stew simmering on hot coals in her tipi…

Well, the one she now shares with her husband.

Unconsciously, she smiles. She remembers leading Dean through the tribe, to the place where she hoped he would find rest. They stopped at the foot of her tipi. 

“This one’s yours?” he asked.

She paused, giving him another small smile. 

“Ours.”

Mila continues scrubbing, though she frowns when her fingers slip through a tear in one of the new tunics she made for him (even though he keeps calling it a shirt). The tear was made by a blade, or maybe an arrowhead, she realizes. 

The crunch of feet on the riverbed’s gravel makes her raise her head and look over her shoulder. Unease prickles down her spine. She braces herself for a familiar shadow, come to disturb her peace.    

But then she relaxes. She’s being joined by two of the older women in her tribe. Mila has known them her whole life, and so she calls them tunwin. Aunt. They both greet her kindly and kneel beside her with their own bundles of clothes for washing, but Eyota, the older one, has a sharper eye. She is their tribe’s medicine woman. 

“Your husband wears out his clothes,” she remarks.

“He’s been working hard training with Šóta and the other men,” Mila explains.

“He seems to be learning quickly,” says Misae. She has a more playful glint in her eyes. “Who knew that you could catch and tame a White Man. Looks like they are no different from wild horses.”

Mila smiles slightly, but it’s not genuine. She nods in agreement. “He’s learning quickly.”

She holds her tongue from saying anything else, even though she wants to. Dean isn’t a man to be tamed, any more than she was, in his people’s eyes. She aims to change the subject. 

“Do you have any good herbs or spices for wahonpi? I’ve had the stew simmering all morning,” she asks Eyota. Not only is she a gifted healer, but Eyota is also one of the best cooks, and she knows it. She nods and straightens her shoulders the way she always does when someone asks her for advice—and even when they don’t ask for it.

“Of course, child. What you need is…”

“Goddamn it,” Dean huffs under his breath.

The jackrabbit flees from him again, or more accurately, from his terribly aimed arrow. He’s an excellent marksman…just not with a bow, it seems.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong here, and he’s not likely to figure it out. Not by the way Takoda, Šóta, and the other men are laughing at him.

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knows when he’s being hazed.

These men are bare-chested warriors, each of them richly tanned under the sun. Most of them wear their hair long, half of it gathered high on their heads, or braided in some way. Šóta is his wife’s cousin, and as the Chief’s son, he wears a small adornment of eagle feathers threaded into his hair. His closest friends are Takoda and Otaktay. Both of them laugh at Dean the most, and in their language, using just enough gestures and body language that Dean knows he’s being talked about. They point at his boots and his brown Stetson hat—two of the only things he’s kept of his own that make him feel comfortable in his own skin.

Finally, Šóta goes over to him. “Good try,” he says, in his usual patronizing tone.

Dean knows he can’t punch out Mila’s cousin, no matter how bad he’s asking for it. Somehow, Dean manages to hold onto his temper.

“What’re they saying?” he asks lowly, gesturing at the two chuckle brothers.

Šóta’s lips twitch. He glances down at Dean’s feet. “They say your…shoes are loud on the earth. You give yourself away before the animal even catches your scent.”

Dean’s given up a lot of things, but his boots won’t be one of them. He wants to learn. He wants to belong here, in Mila’s world, but he also wants to stay himself.

So the men move on, mounting their horses. Dean rides with Baby at a plodding clip. Her black coat ripples with a healthy sheen. He thinks she’s come to enjoy the more natural surroundings and freer pasture of the grasslands, and he can’t deny, this part of it all feels right. The sun peeks through between the dappled leaves of oak trees, painting the ground in red, green, and gold. It’s quiet and beautiful here as Šóta leads the pack through the forest, just southwest of the village.

Eventually, he stops them between a denser thatch of trees and shrub. He raises a hand signal that Dean’s come to recognize. He raises his bow belatedly after the others though. He follows Šóta’s line of vision, and there is a deer grazing in a small clearing. A young buck.

Šóta signals at Dean. Try again, his eyes say.

Dean takes in a deep, quiet breath through his nose, and he takes aim.

He really misses his damn rifle.

Dean shoulders the sting of failure while he makes his way through the camp, leading Baby by the reigns. He drops her off at the large horse pen. There he feeds her and brushes her long coat, all while murmuring soft affectionate things. She’s still one of his only friends here.

But even she leaves him short to join her new friend, Mato. The two have become thick as thieves. Mato greets the black mare with a friendly whinny. Their noses touch in affection, and Mato playfully nips at her ear.

Dean raises his brows. “Well, that’s a little more friendly than usual. You guys start courting when I wasn’t looking?”

He walks over to Mato, who’s softened up to him in recent weeks.

“You sly dog,” Dean remarks, smirking. “Didn’t even ask me for her hand.”

Mato blows a hot breath through his nose at Dean, who has to blink, wiping his face.

“Now that’s just rude.” Still, he offers the mustang an apple from his pocket. Mato takes it from his palm, letting Dean rub his neck while he munches on his snack. “As fathers-in-law go, you lucked out, pal. See? I’m a delight.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if Baby had her first foal by spring. Dean grins at the thought, but it soon falls. If only his father-in-law were so easy to please.

His mind dwells on it as he starts making his way back to the heart of the village. Chatan, Mila’s father, hasn’t warmed up to him any better than Šóta or the other men. Tahatan is the only one of them who treats Dean civilly, and overall, he seems to be a good leader.

Dean has that thought, just when he sees the older man himself walking with a woman Dean sort of recognizes. She wears a long necklace made of blue beads and seashells. Tahatan goes into her tipi, even though Dean knows…that woman isn’t the Chief’s wife.

Dean raises his brows, but he subtly pivots on his heel and takes a different route back to his own tipi. Whatever he just saw, it’s definitely not his business.

“Honey, I’m home,” he teases.

She welcomes him into her arms, her hands traveling warmly up his shoulders. He bends to kiss her, soft and slow at first. And then deeper, sucking on her lower lip and teasing her with a sensuous tongue. She hums in surprise into his mouth, making him smile.

He’s exhausted and feeling low, but he doesn’t want to let on to her. He just wants to forget about his day, and hopefully recharge with a better night.

“How did it go today?” she asks, after he allows her to breathe.

Dean nods (and lies). “Pretty good.”

She waits for him to continue. When he just continues to hold her, she raises her brows up at him.

“Dean?”

“What? I’m workin’ on archery. Lots of progress.”

She eyes him in suspicion, and he knows he doesn’t have her fooled. Actually, she looks like she’s going to press him about it, so he releases her from his hold and goes to change out of his dirty clothes to avoid her gaze.

“Hey, uh, maybe it’s none of my business, but I saw the Chief go into some other woman’s tent today. Holding hands, bedroom eyes, the whole deal,” he says while he changes. He glances back at her and waggles his brows. Mila smiles slightly.

“Did she wear her hair in a half-braid, or did she wear a necklace made of seashells?” she asks.

Dean’s surprised that she doesn’t seem surprised, but he thinks back to what he saw.

“Uh, seashells. Yeah, she wore seashells,” he says.

Mila nods. “Yes, that woman is also his…the chiefs of my people are known to take more than one wife.”

At that, Dean becomes even more surprised. He finishes dressing and leaves his boots by the tipi’s entrance. His raised brows even out into a smirk.

“Well, okay. Guess it’s good to be Chief,” he says.

Mila’s lips purse as she eyes him narrowly. She goes back to stirring the stew with a wide, wooden spoon. Dean doesn’t see her reaction, but he does notices that something’s missing from his side of the bedding. He frowns.

“Hey, where’s my gun?” He asks Mila, who shakes her head without looking at him.

“I moved it,” she curtly replies.

Dean’s frown deepens. He touches her arm to get her attention.

“I’d rather you didn’t do that, baby,” he says. He’s made sure that she knows the basics of a gun well enough, but he doesn’t want to take the chance of her hurting herself.

“Don’t leave it out, then,” she snips back. “It shouldn’t go where we sleep.”

Dean tilts his head at her. He’s a bit confused at her tone, especially because they’ve had this conversation before.

“I have it there just in case something happens at night,” he reminds her. His pistol is really just for emergencies though. There are only three bullets left in it, and he can’t exactly go shopping for more. 

Dean realizes then that Mila’s mood has shifted. He approaches her from behind.

“What’s wrong, huh?” His hands find familiar purchase along the curve of her waist. He swipes her braid away and presses a kiss where her neck meets her shoulder. More teasingly, he asks, “What’d I do now?”

Mila remains tight-lipped, until she glances at him over her shoulder.

“Do you want another woman?” she asks.

It’s a simple question, but it succeeds in completely tripping him up. He blinks at her, incredulous and bewildered.

“What?”

She continues shredding another herb to put into the stew. Somehow, it makes the broth smell a bit worse. 

“You seem to admire the Chief for having three wives, so you must want another one too,” she says.

Holy shit, three wives? Dean wonders. The man must be a saint. Look at the hell I’m catching with one.

He can’t help but laugh, a deep belly chuckle that does nothing to take away Mila’s ire. She glares at him now, genuinely upset, and Dean knows he’s starting to shit the bed on this one. He sobers up and raises his hands in surrender.

“Sweetheart,” he says, in a placating tone.

Despite her annoyance, she allows him to hold her again. He plies her with more tantalizing kisses along her neck. He breathes in the sweet-smelling oil she uses on her hair.

“You’re more than enough woman for me. You know that, right?” he whispers against her skin. It earns her slight shudder, and he smiles. He teases the spot just under her ear, grazing with his teeth, then soothing with his tongue. She can’t help but writhe against him a bit. It stirs a well of desire in his lower belly, especially when he squeezes her hips, pressing himself to her from behind.

She tries to remain strong as she clears her throat, no doubt feeling his growing hardness against her. She starts to blush hotly.

“It’s all I can do just to make sure you stay sweet for me,” Dean says, a hint of teasing returned to his voice.

Mila finally breaks into a laugh. She reaches back to swat him on the head, but his ministrations work. Once she manages to escape from his grasp with a teasing smile of her own, she more happily serves him a bowl of stew.

Dean smirks. Fine, he can be patient. He’ll just have to wait until dessert, then. After a moment to calm himself, he sits down on the ground beside her and brings a large spoonful of stew to his lips. There, he pauses. The strange taste that assaults his tongue nearly makes him choke, but he does his best to swallow it down. The meat’s tough as nails, for Christ’s sake…

Hearing a spoon clatter against the bowl, he chances glancing at Mila. She sits stock still, her brows furrowed as she frowns. Slowly, she sets the bowl down and says,

“Stop eating.”

She looks angry at herself. Dean feels bad for her, his sympathy striking at his chest.

“What do you mean? I’m hungry,” he says, and gamely takes another couple of bites.

She just watches him. Her upset worsens while he tries and fails to cover up a hacking cough.

Finally, Mila can stand no more. She takes the bowl from him, making some of the foul broth slosh over their hands and onto the ground. She tried to make wahonpi, one of the most basic soups in her people’s culture, made from bison, potatoes, corn, and carrots stewed in the broth.

Eyota told me it was simple! she thinks in dismay. How did it go so wrong?

“It’s no good,” she says, her voice hard. “I will go to my mother and see what she cooked. She may have extra for us.”

She rises to her feet, and Dean quickly follows her. He catches sight of her tears, even though she turns her face away from him to grab her shoes. He reaches out and stops her with a hand on her arm. He tugs her back to face him.

“Hey, it’s okay. Why’re you getting so upset?” he says. “I’m not picky. I’ll eat whatever you make.”

Or maybe next time, I’ll try doing the cooking, he thinks.

“Because!” she blurts. Tears well up in her eyes and begin to slip down her cheeks, no matter how much she tries to brush them away. “Because you shouldn’t have to eat it. Because it should be good. You deserve to eat something good!”

Mila finally realizes why her mother tried so hard to teach her these things. She’s embarrassed, feeling sorry for herself, but it’s also far worse than that. Her heart hurts knowing what Dean has gone through, and what he continues to go through for her sake. The least she could do is make sure he eats well, and it seems she can’t even do that.

“Mila,” he says with a sigh. He guides her into his embrace. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

She can’t allow herself to be comforted. She pushes at his chest to look up at him.

“You think I don’t know what happens outside?” she says. “It’s a small village, and people talk when they think I’m not listening. I know what the men are doing to you.”

Dean shakes his head stubbornly. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

“You should not have to,” she insists, resting a hand over his heart. “You have proven yourself to be a man of honor. Tahatan said it himself. They should not be this way.” 

Dean smiles ruefully. “I can handle it.” 

He bows his head and captures her lips, plying her with a deeper kiss. The heat of it grows and becomes more than a distraction, more than comfort. It strips everything else away, until it’s just the two of them again, like the night she found him at the riverbank and held him until he woke up in her arms.

What they eat doesn’t matter. Other people don’t matter. All that matters is this.

He squeezes her hips and presses her harder against him, so she can feel every part of his desire. She moans into his mouth, curling her fingers into his shirt. So he guides her down to the bedding, where he shows her what he’d rather get a taste of.

Later that evening, Mila and Dean have dinner with her parents. Her mother, Weaya, is a gracious host, treating Dean both like a guest and a proper son-in-law. She gives him a special cut of braised bison meat, not to mention extra corn and potato hash. Chatan says nothing to him and eats in gruff, stoic silence. 

Dean can tell it both hurts and annoys his wife, but he has to focus on answering Weaya’s many questions about his life—mainly about his family and the farm he grew up on. In some ways, raising crops and rearing up cows, chickens, and horses there isn’t so different from the Lakota village.  

“You must miss that place. Your home,” she says. Dean meets his mother-in-law’s eyes, pausing in polishing off the meat sauce on his plate with a piece of bread. Chatan looks up from his meal, and so does Mila, who hesitates too. He sees the thread of her concern there, behind her eyes, so Dean hides the stab of sadness that hits him every time he thinks of Lawrence. 

“Sometimes,” he admits. He looks over at Mila. “But I’m not alone. That’s what matters.”

She smiles at him softly. Dean has the urge to take her hand, maybe raise it up to his lips, but he’ll leave that for when they’re alone. He doesn’t want to upset her father any more than he has just by sitting in Chatan’s house. Tent…whatever.

He’s glad when, after almost another hour and a round of hot tea, Mila finishes chatting with her mother and stands. It means they can finally get the hell out of here. No disrespect to her parents, but with so much change happening so quickly, Dean had been able to put Lawrence out of his mind for a while. Tonight he thinks about his mom and his brother more than makes him comfortable on their way through the village. He follows Mila inside their tipi, then starts up a candle while she gets ready to rest for the evening. 

Living here is like going back in time—before the lantern, before indoor plumbing and the water heater. It’s not a huge hardship for Dean, who’s spent a lot of his life sleeping on hard, dusty ground, or military bases with less than most modern amenities, but it’s still another adjustment. 

He undresses down to his pants and settles down to the bedding and furs, waiting for his wife. She kneels beside him after undressing down to just her shift. He lays on his back with an arm tucked behind his head, and he watches her unbind her long, dark hair, undoing the braid from the bottom strands. She has this concentrated look on her face, like her mind is far away, even though she’s right here next to him. He threads his fingers through her loose hair while she works, giving her a smile.   

“You okay?” he asks. 

Mila pauses. She lets her tresses escape from her fingers and reaches for him, laying her hand on his chest. Dean holds it there and finally allows himself to press a kiss into her palm. 

I’m sorry, is what she wants to say, but she knows he’ll only reply, For what?

So she lowers down and slips into his warm embrace, as if this can make them both forget the day. She rests her cheek over his beating heart. 

“You will never be alone,” she promises. 

Dean quirks a smile. Instead of answering, he brushes her cheek tenderly with his hand, and he closes his eyes. A few deep breaths later, and he finds sleep.

The candle slowly flickers out.   

On most nights, Mila falls asleep before Dean, and so his light snores don’t bother her. Tonight, even though she’s tried, she can’t tune out his rumbles. Or maybe it’s her own mind she can’t tune out.

She carefully maneuvers out of his hold and slips on her shoes. Maybe the moon will give her clarity tonight. 

She pushes open the front flap of the tent and steps out into the cooler air. She looks up at the moon’s white-blue glow, a wide crescent peeking out from between two large clouds. A strong breeze tugs at her hair and flutters her lashes when she closes her eyes. She crosses her arms when goosebumps spread across her tan skin.

“What troubles you, Kimmímila?”

The voice is steady and male, and all too familiar. Still, the intrusion startles her. Her eyes fly open wide and she jolts, inhaling sharply. She frowns when she realizes it’s him. 

“What are you doing? It’s late,” she says.

He steps out from the shadows with his pipe in hand. He smells strongly of tobacco. Her father and uncle smoke as well, but she doesn’t like it herself. She’s glad Dean doesn’t either.  

“Easing my mind,” he says, raising his pipe. “I see you’re up to the same thing.”

Mila shakes her head. She returns her attention to the moon. “Go. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Are we not friends, Mila?” he says. “Can’t we talk and share like we used to?”

His voice is disheartened enough that it earns her gaze. She sighs at him. 

“I am sorry, but I can’t give you what you want,” she says. “Don’t test me anymore.”

He pauses with his pipe in hand. It drops to his side, and he takes measured steps closer, until he’s looking down at her. Even with the litheness of his form, he’s still taller and broader than her. His long, dark hair is half pulled onto the top of his head, threaded together with a beaded leather string she made for him when they were children. He has used it ever since. The rest of his hair lays loose down his back, brushing his arms. 

“If you actually loved him, it wouldn’t be a test,” he teases.  

He tries to touch her cheek, but she guides his hand down. She shakes her head and steps away from him. 

“This isn’t a game,” she says. “You know I mean what I say.”

His anger and frustration surfaces, with a sharp exhale of breath and the crunch of his dark brows.

“You would choose the Outlander over your own people,” he accuses.

Mila’s gaze is firm as she heads back to her tipi. If he will not be reasonable, then she will make it clear enough to hurt. 

“I choose him over you,” she says. 

Then, she slips back inside.     

The shadow outside remains, just long enough for the moon to become clear past the moving clouds. 

In the morning, Mila goes to her uncle, Chief Tahatan. She finds her parents there in his tipi as well, all of them sharing breakfast. Her aunt passes around more bread and wojapi, a sweet mixed berry sauce, while her father is resting a broken ankle. He’s complaining again, even though it happened over a week ago now. 

“If you hadn’t let the horse buck you off, you wouldn’t be hurting,” she says sharply now. She’s become annoyed with his griping. “Or better yet, you can finally admit that you’re beyond the years of breaking young stallions.” 

Chatan is the Horsemaster of their tribe, and has been since Mila was a little girl, inheriting the position from her great uncle, the former chief’s younger brother. Mila knows, however, that Chatan is getting too old to do the harder work. Many years have meant many battles too, and they’ve taken their toll on his bones. 

An idea grows in her mind, and she goes to sit beside her father. She applies the poultice Eyota gives Weaya for him, before rewrapping his ankle.

“Father,” she begins, imploring him gently, “perhaps Dean could help you care for the horses.”

Chatan eyes her with a frown. “Your husband already has his hands filled with training.” 

“Šóta and Takoda can’t do it all themselves, and Dean has experience with breaking young horses,” she reasons.  

Chatan ignores her and hefts himself to his feet without her or his wife’s help. He leaves with her mother on his heels, even though she looks back at her daughter apologetically. You know your father, her eyes say. 

Mila frowns at his back, both frustrated and upset. When they’re gone, she heaves a sigh. She remains determined though. 

She goes to Chief Tahatan next. He sits in his chair of whicker and wood while he smokes his pipe. Her aunt has gone to help the other women harvesting chokeberries and wild onions. Mila will go there soon, but first, she has business here.

“Uncle,” she says. 

He makes a sound of acknowledgement, crossed between a grunt and a groan. He knows what's coming. She kneels at his feet and touches his hand in a sign of humbleness, reverence, and familial love all at once. 

“Uncle,” she repeats. “Dean has done nothing but try to please Father, but still, he’s being stubborn…will you talk to him? Please?”

Tahatan sighs deeply. “You must understand your father, child. The decision you’ve made affects us all.”

“I do understand, Uncle. But the truth of it is, none of you have given Dean a chance to prove himself.”

“His chance is right now,” Tahatan says, his tone more stern. “Have I not been gracious? Did I not allow him to stay and live among us?”

“Yes, but you continue to judge him in your mind, like everyone else,” she says. The Chief remains quiet. She moves to stand before him, holding his gaze directly. “Let us perform the Huŋkápi.”

Huŋkápi. The Making of Relatives. Her people first created the tradition to make peace between Lakota and rival tribes, like the Ree. It can even be used to unite extended families within the tribe, especially in times of marriage. There is no better time for it, she thinks. 

The Chief shakes his head. “Kimmímila.”

“Is he not my husband?” she says. “In the eyes of our people, this is the joining of two families, and accepting an outsider into our tribe. That is exactly what the ceremony is for.”

“He has no family,” Tahatan snaps. “It is not exactly the tradition.”

“Then let us make it new,” she argues.

Tahatan hesitates. He shakes his head and rubs at his chin in a gesture of long-suffering. He thanks the spirits that he never had daughters. While he loves his niece, he has never envied his brother. 

“I will think on it,” he says. 

Mila frowns, but she tries her best to accept this, for now. She thanks him respectfully and leans in to kiss his cheek. Tahatan grunts an acknowledgement and watches her go with another shake of his head, despite a small smile. Between her and his sons, they will keep adding years to his life. 

On her way out of the Chief’s tipi, she runs into her cousin, Šóta. He walks with all the comfortable cockiness of a rooster among his harem.

“Good morning, sister,” he greets, even as he playfully pulls at her braid and tosses it into her face.

She flicks it away and meets him with an irritated frown. She’s in no mood to be teased, especially by him. “You’re still a child.”

“Ho-ho, hey now,” he chuckles, and he cuts off her path by standing in her way, crossing his arms. “Watch it. When I become Chief, don’t think I’ll let you talk to me so disrespectfully, my sister.”

“Just because you will be Chief one day does not make you wise,” she says. Her voice is as sharp as the snap of a blackberry vine. “And don’t call me sister. You have lost that right.”

Šóta finally becomes serious; he realizes that she means what she says.

“What are you talking about? What have I done?” he asks, more earnestly.

“It’s what you haven’t done,” Mila snaps. “If you were a good leader, you would take your father’s words to heart when he accepted my husband into our tribe. If you were my brother, you wouldn’t let the men mock him. If you were a man at all, you would do what is right. You would be guiding him right now, instead of letting the others ‘train’ him.”

She storms away from him, leaving Šóta feeling irritated, but also with an uncomfortable feeling beginning to churn in his gut. 

Mila moves brusquely through the camp until she reaches the clearing edged by the forest. There the horses are fenced in. They’ve been given their food and water for the morning, so they’re rather frisky as they clop around and graze.

She looks for Mato. Baby is no doubt with Dean today, so the Kiger mustang keeps to himself underneath a large sycamore tree. His tail flicks when she approaches, and he turns to her with a sound of greeting. She allows her hand to run along his dun-colored coat as she draws closer.

“I need you, my friend,” she whispers. 

She holds his snout, pressing her forehead against his as she squeezes her eyes shut against the burn of frustrated tears. Mato bumps her shoulder with his nose, softly whinnying. She smiles, sniffling, and rubs his cheek. 

“Let’s go for a ride.”

AN: Well, here we go! Sorry for ending on some angst, but here we've got the pieces in motion for a fun-filled, four-part sequel. 😂💜 Dean and Mila are both struggling in their own ways while he tries to navigate this new world he's trying to live in.

And how do you think he's gonna react to the "mystery man" trying to win her back? 😬

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Otaktay ("ogh-tac-tay") Weaya ("we-ayy-ya") Takoda ("ta-koda") Mato ("matt-toe") Misae ("mee-sah-eh")

Next Time:

But she feels a shadow at her feet as she ventures through the village. They are getting bigger as a tribe, harder to move when they need to, and it’s more mouths to feed, but it’s also a good thing. Despite all the challenges the past few decades have brought, their people are enduring. 

However, she pushes these thoughts to the back of her mind when she feels a prickling down the back of her neck. It’s followed shortly by the strong hand that closes on her wrist, and the man that calls her name. 

She gasps and whips around. He is there, gently shushing her. She glares at him and tries to pull her hand out of his grip. 

Read Part 2 now on Patreon! (Coming next Friday)

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(Going back to the regular Dean tag list, plus those who said they'd like to be tagged on this series!)

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[isindismay]

I am loving the comments and tags on this post! How people are saying it's different depending on the situation or language they're writing in is fascinating to me.

English is my first language but either i wasn't taught the 12 different tenses or the teaching didn't make sense to me so i feel like i picked up grammar from reading instead. I was never taught to write exclusively in "past perfect" or whatever so if i'm writing past tense it's like, all of the past tenses interchangeably? Plus past tense can include dialogue and maybe thoughts in present tense, and present tense can include sections about the past in past tense. The idea of trying to constrain myself to any one particular tense gives me a headache. When i try to explain particular grammar things to non-native speakers i'm like "haha idek, this particular thing just *feels* right." Regardless of what's "correct" when we're talking about fan fiction my philosophy is do what you want forever.

And the jokers who claim to be exclusively writing in the future tense? I challenge you to prove it! (I'm intrigued)

I am thinking about fan fiction writers, but anyone who writes any kind of fiction can answer. (As far as I’m aware, non-fiction is usually written in the past tense - but if I’m wrong do let me know!)

If you like, explain why in the tags!

When I was young I gathered that all serious works of fiction were written in the past tense (past tense third person to be precise) so that is what i did when I started writing. However my mind was blown by the power and immediacy of Margaret Atwood writing in the present tense so I started to experiment with it myself, and now i strongly favour it. I get the impression that past is still the most commonly used, but I’m prepared to be surprised!

Please share!

[joelalorian]

Under False Pretenses - Chapter 1

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 1700 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Overall rating will be Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap but I imagine a lil' baby one of about 5 to 8 years. This chapter is a wee lil mellow one and sets the scene, but future ones will include soft, yet sexy and intense Dave; several twists - basically, it will have it all: action, angst, deception, fluff, humor, a puppy(!), and SMUT! No use of y/n. Dave will give reader a nickname based on his perception of her.

AN: I got too excited and decided to post the first chapter. Posting schedule will be somewhere are weekly, give or take a few days. Hope you enjoy and let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter 1:

“Sure, honey. You can come stay for a while,” your mom assured you. She sounded excited even though it wasn’t a call you wanted to make, not at this point in your life, but what other options did you have? “You can see the house and meet your new stepdad!”

Dead air.

The soft glow of you bedside lamp cast long shadows on the room, making the clutter of half-packed boxes look like ominous towers. Your knuckles whitened as you gripped the phone tighter, trying to process her words.

“My new WHAT?” your voice rose toward the end in utter confusion. You didn’t even know your mom was dating anyone, let alone someone serious enough to fucking marry!

“Oh, honey, his name is Dave and you’re just gonna love him,” she replied with a lovesick simper.

You’d never heard her voice do that. She must be really into the guy.

Enough to marry him without even inviting you to the god damn wedding?

She’s still chatting away, explaining how they met – at work – and how it was such a whirlwind romance that they got carried away on a work trip to Vegas and decided to just tie the knot without telling anyone.

Okay. That, actually, didn’t surprise you. Your mom was super smart but could be a total a flake sometimes, leaving you to wonder who the adult was on more than one occasion while growing up. She had you really young and never quite matured.

“That’s great, Mom. I can’t wait to meet him,” you finally replied after twenty minutes of listening to her gush over this Dave guy. “But I’m not calling him Dad.”

She laughed. “Of course not, honey. He’s too young to really be your dad anyway.”

That piqued your interest.

“Oh, oh, oh, you robbin’ the cradle, mama?” you teased. “You’re really living your cougar era, huh?”

“Stop it, you,” she giggled in return. “So, when do you think you’ll get here?”

Conversation went back and forth a little longer as your mom gave you the new address – for fuck’s sake, they moved clear across the state from where you grew up, to a very swanky area at the shore, you noted – and you made a rough itinerary. In reality, you would have loved to just drop everything and get the fuck out of dodge right that minute, but logistics and all that.

“Ok, honey. Be careful and I’ll see you next week. Call if you need anything.” Before she ended the call, your mom added, “I’ll text you Dave’s number as well, so you have it in case of emergencies.

“Sounds good, mama. Love you.”

“Love you more, honey.”

You went back to packing up the remnants of your life, readying yourself for the cross-country journey ahead.

You did not have ‘moving back home at almost 30’ on your bingo card this year, but there you were, pulling into the half-moon driveway of a large colonial home in an upscale neighborhood, one much nicer than where your mom used to live. The house loomed under the late morning sun, its pristine white siding and black shutters stark against the cloudless blue sky. Perfectly trimmed hedges flanked the curved driveway, and somewhere nearby, the faint crash of waves carried on the salty breeze. This Dave guy had a lot of money, it appeared. Parking your little sedan to the far side in front of the 3-car garage, you turned the car off and lingered in the driver’s seat, fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel.

Normally, you didn’t mind change, but… man, the past month threw some whammies at you. You lost a boyfriend, job, and your loyal goldfish in quick succession. Each loss hit worse than the last. And now, your safe space, the place you needed to return to so you could lick your wounds… also changed. Big time.

The soft tap of a manicured nail on the window startled you, head snapping to the side to see your mom standing in the driveway beaming at you. She bounced on her feet, anxiously waiting for you to get out of the car.

“Honey! It’s so good to see you!” You barely had time to fully stand up before she pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That was another thing about your mom – she was strong. She had lithe muscles packed into her small figure from being a total gym addict.

Too bad that addiction wasn’t hereditary. You hated the gym.

“Hi mama! Marriage looks good on you!” you praised her once you stepped back and took in her glowing, sun-kissed skin, vibrant blonde locks, and the large rock on her hand.

“You look good, too, honey. You losing weight?”

And of course, she honed right in on that. You weren’t even in front of her for five minutes, and she brought up your weight. Story of your life. Your body shape the exact opposite of your, mother’s, she hadn’t let up on nagging you about your weight since you were twelve years old. You were always a bit… thick in places.

“Uh, maybe, I dunno. Come on, show me your new digs.” You quickly changed the subject.

Your mom gives you the grand tour, proudly showing off all the lovely features of the house, focusing heavily on the ones the home you grew up in didn’t have like the huge kitchen, fireplace, pool, and enormous master suite, though she led you away before you could fully explore all that the suite offered. The two other bedrooms were already decorated for little girls, and you quirked a curious eyebrow at your mom.

“Didn’t I mention that Dave has two young daughters?”

No. No, she definitely did not mention that. You rolled your eyes, understanding now why your mom was so eager for you to come home. She wanted a built-in caretaker. You mentally counted down, knowing exactly what she was about to say in three, two, one…

“Actually, now that you’ll be living here, it would be great if you could look after the girls when we have to travel for work or want to go out, help with the school runs during the week.”

It wasn’t a question, you noted. Not that you expected her to ask first or even mention that being a nanny would be part of the deal. Nothing with your mom ever came without a cost. You learned that lesson long ago.

You loved your mom, you really did. Sometimes, she just didn’t make it easy to do so.

“Right. About that… where am I supposed to be staying if all the bedrooms are taken?”

She led you down the stairs to a door off the family room, where another stairway awaited you. “You’re locking me away in the basement?” you joked. “Please tell me it’s at least finished.”

“Just wait until you see it, honey,” your mom promised, and you reluctantly followed her down the steps.

When the lights flicked on, the sight took your breath away. It was like an entire apartment down there. It even had its own private entrance leading to the garage allowing you to come and go as you pleased. “Wow,” you breathed.

“Told ya.” She flashed you a twitchy wink. “You’ll have this whole space to yourself… well, except for that room over there.” She pointed to a closed door equipped with a sturdy lock.

“What’s in there?” you questioned, already curious about the reasoning for such a lock on the door.

“That’s Dave’s office. It’s off limits to everyone but him, so don’t go snooping. Got it?” She pointed a finger at you like you were an errant child, and you raised your hands in surrender.

“Heard you loud and clear, mama. I have no interest in whatever creepy ass skeletons Dave is keeping in his locked office.” Total lie, of course, but your mom didn’t need to know that.

“Good. Get settled in and help yourself to whatever you need. I must head to the office for a bit. Dave should be home at some point, he just had a meeting in town. I’ll pick up the girls from school on my way home if you want to take care of dinner.”

And there it was. You knew there’d be a bigger price to pay for this arrangement, more than occasionally taking care of your new stepsisters. Without a job or any other responsibilities, your mom was going to treat you like free labor. You saw that coming.

You followed your mom upstairs and through the front door as she headed to her car in the garage, and you went for yours. Might as well get unpacked, not like you brought much anyway. It was early still, and you could make a trip to the store for anything you needed before having to worry about dinner.

A few hours later, you stepped back to admire your new living space with a sense of pride. You did everything you could to make it your own, within reason.

With the basement suite basically being a blank slate, you chose a variety of decorative pillows, wall hangings, and chotchkes to give it your own stylistic flair. The furnishings unused and rather plain, you wanted to spice them up with splashes of color. You did everything short of paint the damn walls – and you would have done that too if given the option.

Grateful for a firm mattress with a plush pillowtop, you sprang for the softest satiny sheets you could find in a pale green hue and paired it with a patterned comforter with clean lines. A couple of coastal-themed lamps on the nightstands rounded out the small bedroom.

The bathroom was already decorated with a shower curtain and accessories in soft gray hues, and you wondered if that was Dave’s touch or your mother’s. Probably Dave. Your mom never veered toward subtle furnishings, much preferring patterns and styles that you found garish.

Glancing around at the neat space one last time, you headed upstairs to the kitchen to begin dinner preparations. You wanted to make something special for the first time meeting your stepdad and his daughters.

tbc

tag list: @imdrinkingpedro @lillaydee @ppascalrain @yorksgirl @missladym1981 @baronessvonglitter @slimybeth69

[pinkssluv]

1980s AU Bsf! Reader X Bsf! Matt

“Don’t Dream It’s Over” played softly on the radio as you and Matt lay on your bed together. It was almost midnight when you got the call from your parents that you’d have the house to yourself for the night. With them gone for most of the day, it was the perfect chance for Matt to come over and watch movies with you. After watching about three movies and eating countless slices of pizza, the two of you were now lying in your bed, listening to music. Matt laid across your stomach, and you found yourself combing your fingers through his soft brown hair.

The boy hummed to the music softly on the radio, his tough-guy persona around his brothers completely gone when it was just the two of you. You both lay in comfortable silence, letting the music ring through your ears. Though you two were only best friends, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of maybe one day being something more.

“Matt,” you spoke up. He lifted his head, meeting your gaze with his bright blue eyes as he responded.

“Yeah, princess?”

The way the nickname rolled off his tongue so perfectly made you blush, no matter how many times he said it.

“Do you think we’ll always be like this?” you asked, your voice soft and unsure. Maybe you were just too tired to make much sense, or maybe you were too nervous to explain your question further. But those thoughts faded when the boy smiled up at you sweetly.

“Of course. You think you could get rid of me?” he teased, poking the side of your stomach. You giggled and squirmed, pushing him away.

“I’m serious,” you whined, your voice small. “What if one day we aren’t close like this anymore?”

“Take those ‘what ifs’ out of your pretty little head, sweetheart.” Matt tapped the side of your head with his finger. “It’s impossible.”

The smile that spread across your face warmed Matt’s heart even more. He sat up, cupping your face in his hands.

Before you could voice your doubts again, the boy kissed you.

“I could never love anyone as much as I love you,” he whispered gently against your lips when he pulled away.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face wouldn’t fade. You were head over heels for your best friend.

Tags: @sturnsbella @imobsessedwithtaylorswift

[animeyanderelover]

Request: For my second request I would like for Haruhi (OHSHC), Misa (Death Note), Asa (Chainsaw Man), Uruaka (MHA), Kiyoko and Hinata (Haikyu), Rin and Bachira (Blue Lock), Illumi and Pokkle (HXH) where their darling is confessing to the yandere that they feel the same as them and return their feelings for them, but says they can't be together because they are both the same gender? and tells the yanderes “I wish you were a boy/girl?”

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, manipulation, blackmailing, abduction, isolation, murder, female reader with female character, male reader with male character

Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @hyakki-yosai @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59 @killuagirly

I wish you were a boy/girl

Illumi Zoldyck

🤎​All you receive from Illumi after you have told him that the two of you can't be together because he is a man is that long and blank stare accompanied with the wonderful awkward silence that disables you to speak up. Frankly spoken, Illumi doesn't care too much about the fact that he has fallen in love with another man. No, he is quite confused instead as he doesn't understand why you instead reject him despite feeling the same. The way he tilts his head would be almost cute if his eyes wouldn't pierce your very soul at the moment. When he eventually asks you if you could explain it to him all whilst he finally blinks threateningly slow the tension in the air is so thick that you could cut it with a knife. No matter how you explain it to him though, your words hold no weight in his mind. The only thing that matters to him is the fact that you reciprocate his emotions and if someone within your surroundings stops the two of you, he will kill them. It's as simple as that. Once you are within the walls of the Zoldyck mansion Illumi will make sure that no one questions the two of you. As long as he fucks someone and has some heirs he is free to love whoever he wants after all.

Pokkle

🏹​Pokkle goes through the five stages of grief only that he never arrives at the stage of acceptance. He's in denial at the beginning because within all of his infatuation and all the insecurities somehow he never once considered that maybe you wouldn't feel attracted to him simply because he is of the same sex as you are. After the denial follows immediately the depression as he retreats from your sight. By no means is he avoiding you though, still stalking behind you though with a lot more grief within his heart. It's very likely that he is soon going to reach a breaking point though. You see, Pokkle is very much dependent on attention and love from his darling which will ultimately lead his mind to be able to only repeat one thing. That you still love him. Love conquers anything after all so why would you let yourself be stopped just because he is biologically a man? As soon as he starts drifting into that thought process it is over for you as that is the moment Pokkle will turn densely delusional out of desperation. An abduction will follow soon after as Pokkle is convinced that you just need to realise that it doesn't matter that the two of you are both men as he will prove to you that he is better than a woman.

Amane Misa

💄​Whatever it is that you say to her it all becomes irrelevant in her mind the moment you make the mistake of confessing to her that you feel the same as she does. Misa immediately latches on to those words as they are the only words she hears. Misa is awfully possessive of her darling and delusional to top it all which is a dangerous combination. The first thing that she does as soon as you have ended your speech is just give you a long and giddy kiss as she decides to ignore whatever it was you spoke after admitting to her that you love her too. Why, you may ask? Because it doesn't matter to her. You return her feelings and that is all that she really needs to hear and know. Still, it is not like she is completely oblivious as you notice that she is so much clingier and affectionate whenever the two of you are around other men. Her facade is still all cute smiles but there is that dangerous look in her eyes. Jealousy is as natural as breathing for Misa and if she believes that someone is threatening your relationship, she will write his name down in her Death Note. So even if you try to get together with a man, she will ensure that he is going to drop dead in the most gruesome way possible.

Uraraka Ochaco

🎈​Ochaco considered the two of you to be a wonderful match. You have known each other for so long after all. In her mind there has never been a question about who she would end up with later on in her life but she realises that she has been too optimistic when you tell her that you cannot see yourself with her because she is also a girl. She swallows it all down though and only gives you a weak smile, assuring you that it's alright. Obviously the relationship takes a turn for the worse between the two of you and she can't accept that. Something has to be done or else she is going to lose you completely. Obviously she will feel guilty the moment she starts subtly sabotaging and manipulating you but whenever she meets a guy you like, she is hard-wired to notice everything about him that you wouldn't like later on because she knows you too well. Small mistakes like inviting you to food that you don't like are already enough to have her doubt that you will be happy with him. She starts pointing out everything about appearance or personality on a guy that she knows you don't like and always speaks up when he does something you don't like to show you that she knows you best after all.

Hinata Shoyo

☀️​Being heavily delusional by nature, someone like Hinata is going to be difficult to handle when it comes to any type of rejection in general. All of it is made much worse though when you foolishly confess to feeling the same way as he does though. Even as you tell him that the two of you can't be together and even if his heart is hurting, Hinata doesn't feel any despair. How could he after all? If the love between the two of you is mutual after all then there is nothing he has to be worried about. That settles it in Shoyo's mind. The two of you are a couple and the very next morning he is totally going to act his part of it. He's elated, a bright grin on his face as he tells all his friends that you reciprocate his feelings. He's affectionate, grabs your hands and hugs you from behind. Rumors quickly spread which leave you no choice but to confront him, absolutely flabbergasted and in shock from what he has done. If you are going to get angry with him be prepared for the waterworks though as Hinata will just yell back that you told him that you loved him. Why does sex even matter then when the both of you feel the same? You... you wouldn't drop him only to be together with a girl after all, would you?

Shimizu Kiyoko

🖤​Kiyoko keeps a stoic expression when you admit to her your inner conflict before just giving you a curt nod and leaving. She is not someone who openly reveals her affection for you as she is for starters aware that her feelings aren't exactly your typical highschool romance and additionally she prefers observation as she would never confess mindlessly only to get her feelings hurt. In that moment she is glad that she has never revealed just how much you mean to her as otherwise things between the two of you would have been much more awkward. However, she is not completely hurt as the fact remains that you still love her too. That is something that she can work with. There is after all a path that can be taken in this situation and all she has to do is build it now. Perhaps it is time to step out of her shell and show you just how much she cares about you and how well she knows you. She will swiftly and bluntly point out everything at fault within a guy when you introduce him to her the moment she notices that he says or does something you are uncomfortable with all whilst she herself inserts herself more into your life, providing the support and assistance that you need in that moment.

Fujioka Haruhi

👑​Haruhi is to her defence not going to be your biggest worry that you have in the beginning. I would consider Tamaki to be the bigger menace at first when he finds out that Haruhi has been dumped by you because she is a girl. He's extremely protective of her and is most likely going to tell you multiple sob stories in the hope that you may reconsider your words. To Haruhi herself gender has never really mattered that much as she doesn't think that it should restrict someone within society, a very open-minded opinion that you don't seem to share. To her it has never mattered that you are a girl but it matters to you and a part of her understands where those prejudices may come from. It is not within Haruhi's assets to beat around the bush though, she is going to be very straightforward and ask you soon for a clearer reason for why exactly you can't be together with her. If you wouldn't be into girls it would be one thing but since you have confessed to her that you return her love she knows that this isn't the case which is why she is unwilling to give up. She's still friendly and welcoming but Haruhi is very stubborn and the topic will come up in conversations since she doesn't see the need to lie.

Mikata Asa

▪️​Asa isn't in general known as someone who deals with failure or anything that doesn't go her way very well so this is initially not going to end up any better. The moment you tell her that you can't be together with you her initial reaction is to simply insult you and everyone she knows you have a friendly relationship with. All of her pain is buried deep within as she exposes her mean-spirited side before she walks away with her chin held high. Her meltdown only happens once she is all alone and has no one to project her pain on anymore, spiralling down into her hole of insecurity and self-hatred. She wants to prove herself as worthy, she wants you to choose her but she lacks any comprehension of social skills to do so. However, if there is one thing that she latches on to it is the fact that you admitted that you still love her even though you can't be with her. That has to mean something, doesn't it? It's those words she clings to, it's those words that push her to go on with a constant mixture of anger, jealousy and hope within her. She stalks you everywhere you go, she insults every man that gets too close with you all whilst she tries in a severely wrong attempt to show you her worth.

Bachira Meguru

💛​I'll just be honest and say right away that he is not going to care about what you have to say. Bachira gladly allows his delusional streak to solve all problems for him which allows for such an unmatched level of optimism which you would better not break. You just have to make it worse by admitting to him your own feelings which only solidifies everything within Bachira's thoughts as his actions from that day on are justified. You love him so there should be no problem at all for any of his actions after all. If you try to avoid him the best of luck because this guy is going to pop up everywhere where you are. Not to mention the lovely surprise visits that he likes to do, appearing unannounced in front of your door and asking to be let in with a grin on his face. He's so handsy with you, it is almost maddening. Meguru is constantly touching you somehow. He jumps on your back from behind, he tugs at your sleeves when he wants attention, he grabs your hand in his and drags you away from someone that he finds annoying. You're not going to be able to shake him off as Meguru is the human definition of a leech who won't let go. His behavior is very risky to be honest.

Itoshi Rin

🩵​Differently from Bachira Rin is much more subtle with everything though perhaps that is going to make him more dangerous than disturbing. He leaves you alone after your rejection but you would misjudge the situation severely if you were to believe that he is trying to accept everything. It's actually the complete opposite as Rin tries to tame his own demons and think of a way to get you back to his side. He can't let things slip through his hands, he can't let every single person leave him in the dust just because he isn't enough, isn't what others want him to be. It's that desperation that drives him quite far in any attempt to assure that you don't get any saying. What I'm trying to say is that after having watched the second season and having seen his flow that I believe Rin to get very destructive when he snaps which then puts everyone around you at a risk because his sole drive then is to destroy everyone who stands in his way. He starts blackmailing all sorts of people and he won't even have enough care left to spare your closed ones and you yourself get a very good slice of this ugly side of his that contrasts his normal stoic behavior on every single level.

[monbons]

Stitches and Sentences Sunday

Thanks for the tags @martsonmars and @artsyunderstudy. I loved reading your WIP snips. As always, such delicious delicious words from both of you.

This is a long update with video and some mild NSFW, so I am slapping everything under the cut. Enjoy!

STITCHES I resolved to take it easy in the new year, so I have no big doll projects on the horizon. I've just been slowly plugging away at MRB Simon as I sat on planes and in airports for hours on end this break.

But Monica, didn't you make him for COC? Well, yes and no...

As soon as I started making things for COC, I realized the only way to make the project sustainable was to create what I now call "base Simon" and "base Baz." These consisted of a head, torso, and legs. Then, depending on the position required, sometimes I swapped out the arms (on one occasion the legs), and I always changed the clothing and/or accessories. As a result, MRB Simon was actually ONLY arms and some hasty pipe cleaner flowers.

After wrapping up the last post, I cleaned up the CHAOS that had exploded in my bedroom and the little disembodied arms sitting on my desk began haunting me. So, I decided to complete MRB Simon. Here he is in all his naked glory.

I would like to add the disclaimer that I didn't know anything about embroidery before this. Truly. I taught myself three simple stitches in one night from youtube just to have these arms made in time for COC. So, given that, I am pretty happy with how he's turned out. I am still waiting on shoes and a few accessories to arrive, but once he is finished, I'll give him his own dedicated post and mail him off to @rimeswithpurple as a thank you for all of her help with my COC Watford map.

SENTENCES As I said, I was trying to take it easy. Not so much a resolution as what I needed after all the madness. However, almost as soon as I made the decision, I was struck by creative lightning. I've learned that you never walk away from inspiration, so I've cranked out almost all of my EGF fic already and it is in the hands of my trusty forever beta.

I have nothing I want to preview just yet because it is the filthiest thing I have ever written while also not being very filthy at all??? I don't know how else to explain it then to share the comment I left @thewholelemon on my doc.

Perhaps I will feel brave enough to share more in upcoming weeks. Since it was inspired by a slutty doll accessory I stumbled upon and have since commissioned for one of my dolls, I may also illustrate my own fic. We'll see.

Hellos and high-fives from the smutty doll factory!

@alexalexinii, @argumentativeantitheticalg, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @artsyunderstudy

@best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @bookish-bogwitch, @confused-bi-queer

@cutestkilla, @drowninginships, @emeryhall, @facewithoutheart, @harrie-leithillustration

@hushed-chorus, @iamamythologicalcreature, @ic3que3n, @ileadacharmedlife, @katatsumuli,

@larkral, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @messofthejess, @mooncello,

@noblecorgi, @orange-peony, @prettygoododds, @raenestee, @rbkzz,

@rimeswithpurple, @roomwithanopenfire, @run-for-chamo-miles, @shrekgogurt, @skeedelvee

@stitchyqueer, @talentpiper11, @twinkle-twinkle-up-above, @theimpossibledemon, @thewholelemon,

@valeffelees, @whatevertheweather, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold

[luvvictoria]

Through Fire and Void

+ pairings. suguru geto x f!reader/satoru gojo x f!reader

+ tags. romance, heavy (?) angst, cheating, betrayal, dark romance themes, love triangle (more like a square), secrets and lies, eventual smut

+ status. on-going

+ official playlist. by victo

+ materialist ; prev. part ; next part + a/n. Reblog with your favourite line ! It would help me very much to grow my account !! Thank you in advance

The days blurred together in a haze of routine and unresolved tension, each one indistinguishable from the last. For [Name], the mornings were the worst — waking up felt like an uphill battle she had already lost before opening her eyes. The gnawing emptiness in her chest would greet her like an unwelcome visitor, settling heavily as if it had every right to be there. She would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, her body weighted by an invisible force that whispered to her that something was wrong, even if she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

But life didn’t stop for feelings she couldn’t explain. So, she did what she always did: got up, plastered on a smile, and went through the motions of her day. It was easier to pretend than to face the gnawing questions in her mind. That was what Suguru loved about her, after all — her ability to hold it all together, even when everything inside her felt like it was shattering into a thousand pieces. She was dependable, predictable, someone he didn’t have to worry about.

The mornings stretched into afternoons, where her routine felt like a carefully choreographed dance, each step hiding the chaos beneath. She would laugh at jokes she didn’t find funny, nod along to conversations she wasn’t really listening to, and avoid lingering too long in moments of silence where her thoughts might catch up to her. And when she saw Suguru, she made sure to keep her doubts buried deep, masking them behind the perfect image of the girl she thought he wanted her to be.

Today, though, was different.

The cracks were starting to show. It was in the way her hands trembled slightly as she buttoned her shirt, in the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes when she greeted her classmates. It was in the way she avoided looking too closely at Suguru’s face when he kissed her on the cheek that morning, afraid that she might see something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Her reflection in the bathroom mirror caught her off guard. She paused, staring at the person looking back at her. Was this who she really was now? Someone who spent every waking moment second-guessing herself, walking on eggshells, and pretending everything was fine when nothing felt fine at all? Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She splashed cold water on her face, the chill shocking her back to reality, and forced herself to straighten up.

The world wouldn’t wait for her to fall apart. It never did.

The school hallways buzzed with chatter and bursts of laughter, a chaotic symphony of teenage life that felt at odds with the storm brewing inside [Name]. She moved through the throng like a ghost, her books clutched tightly to her chest as if they could shield her from the noise, the questions, the uncertainty. Her gaze stayed glued to the floor, avoiding the curious stares of those around her.

The doubts and suspicions that had taken root in her mind felt like live wires, sparking and threatening to ignite if she let herself think too long. How many times had his phone buzzed while they were together? How many times had he turned away with an excuse, his smile disarming but his eyes unreadable? She shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts.

“[Name]!”

The voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, and she stopped in her tracks, turning toward its source. Utahime was weaving through the crowd, her expression warm and filled with concern.

Utahime. The one person who had always been there, her steady presence like a lighthouse in a storm. Her friend’s kind smile cut through the noise in [Name]’s head, grounding her.

“Hey,” [Name] greeted, her lips curving into a smile she hoped looked convincing.

Utahime tilted her head, her eyes scanning [Name]’s face with the precision of someone who knew her too well. “You look like you didn’t sleep at all. Did something happen?”

The question hit harder than it should have. [Name]’s grip on her books tightened, her nails pressing into the covers. She wanted to tell Utahime everything. She wanted to spill the truth about Suguru’s distance, about the constant buzzing of his phone, about the way he sometimes looked at her like she wasn’t even there. But the words stuck in her throat.

“No, I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice a little too bright. “Just tired.”

Utahime’s frown deepened, but she didn’t press. “Well, let me know if you need anything, okay?”

She slipped an arm around [Name]’s shoulders, and the simple gesture felt like a lifeline. “Want to grab lunch later? Just us? We can skip the cafeteria and go somewhere quieter.”

The offer warmed something in [Name], and for the first time that morning, her smile felt almost real. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Utahime grinned, giving her a light squeeze. “Good. You need a break, and I could use some girl talk. See you then.”

As Utahime walked away, her presence lingered like the last rays of sunlight before a storm. For a brief moment, [Name] felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that no matter how chaotic things got, she didn’t have to face it alone. But as she turned to head to her next class, the weight of her thoughts settled back onto her shoulders, heavier than before.

In the crowd, she caught a glimpse of Suguru, his tall frame leaning casually against a locker as he laughed with Shoko. The sight sent a pang through her chest, but she looked away before either of them could notice her. She bit her lip and quickened her pace, the doubt coiling tighter in her stomach.

She told herself she would confront him soon — just not today. Not yet.

Across campus, Satoru Gojo leaned against a wall, his signature grin plastered on his face as he chatted with Yo Haibara. The two of them were like magnets for trouble, their energy infectious and a little chaotic.

“So, did you hear about the party at Mei Mei’s place this weekend?” Yo asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Of course I did,” Satoru replied, adjusting his sunglasses. “Think I’d miss out on a chance to outshine everyone?” Yo laughed, but his amusement faltered when he noticed Satoru’s gaze shift. Following his line of sight, he spotted Suguru walking across the courtyard, his phone pressed to his ear.

“He’s been busy lately,” Yo commented, his tone casual but curious. Satoru’s grin dimmed, just slightly. “Yeah. Busy.” Suguru’s conversation ended, and he slipped his phone into his pocket before joining them. “What are you two scheming now?” he asked, his tone light.

“Planning to crash Mei Mei’s party in style,” Satoru replied, his usual charm masking the edge in his voice. “What about you? Finally done with all those ‘errands’ you’ve been running?”

Suguru’s smile was as polished as ever. “Some of us have responsibilities, Satoru. Not all of us can coast through life on good looks and charm.”

“Speak for yourself,” Satoru shot back, though his laugh didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The air between them shifted subtly, a tension invisible to anyone passing by but palpable to those who knew them well. Satoru’s grin lingered, a shield against the questions simmering beneath the surface. Yo, ever the peacemaker, raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, sensing the unspoken undercurrent between his two friends.

Suguru’s polished smile didn’t waver, though there was a flicker in his eyes — a brief shadow that Satoru caught but chose not to comment on. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, his posture as casual as ever, but his sharp gaze never left Suguru.

“Responsibilities, huh?” Satoru drawled, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “Funny how those seem to come with a lot of phone calls lately. Anyone important?” Suguru chuckled, his tone easy but calculated. “Just people I have to keep happy. You know how it is.”

“Do I?” Satoru shot back, the words light but laced with an edge. His grin widened, but his tone softened, almost too casual. “You’re not spreading yourself too thin, are you? Gotta make sure you have time for the people who really matter.” Suguru’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the shift barely noticeable. “I always do,” he replied, the smoothness of his voice betraying nothing.

Yo glanced between them, sensing the growing friction but unsure of its source. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile. “Okay, okay, let’s not get too serious here. It’s a party, not a debate club. So, Suguru, are you coming, or are you gonna leave me and Satoru to fend off Mei Mei’s sarcastic jabs by ourselves?” Suguru’s smile returned, this time with an air of detachment. “I’ll see if I can make it. No promises.”

“Translation: ‘I’m bailing,’” Satoru quipped, throwing an arm around Yo’s shoulders. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Haibara. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure we’re the stars of the night.” Yo laughed, the tension easing slightly, but Satoru’s grip on his shoulder was tighter than usual, his focus still on Suguru. “Don’t stay too busy, Suguru. You might miss something important.” Suguru didn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable as he met Satoru’s gaze. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said finally, his tone neutral.

With that, Suguru turned and walked away, his pace unhurried but purposeful. Satoru watched him go, his usual carefree demeanor slipping for just a moment as he ran a hand through his white hair.

“You two okay?” Yo asked hesitantly.

Satoru shrugged, the grin back on his face like a mask. “Yeah, we’re fine. Suguru’s just... complicated.”

Yo didn’t push further, but the unease lingered as they made their way across campus. Satoru’s thoughts, however, remained on Suguru. He’d known his friend long enough to recognize when something was off, and lately, everything about Suguru felt like a puzzle with pieces missing.

As they reached their next class, Satoru made a mental note to keep a closer eye on him. Secrets had a way of unraveling, and Satoru wasn’t about to let Suguru’s unravel without warning.

Later that afternoon, [Name] found herself in the quiet sanctuary of the library, sitting across from Nanami Kento. The rows of books around them provided a sense of stillness, the hum of hushed whispers and the occasional turning of pages creating a calming background. It wasn’t the first time she had sought solace in Nanami’s company. The studious, dependable boy had a way of grounding her, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions she’d been wrestling with lately.

“Are you okay?” Nanami’s voice cut through the silence, soft yet direct. He didn’t look up from his notebook, his pen moving methodically across the page, but there was a weight to his words that made her pause.

She hesitated, her pencil hovering over the math problem she had been pretending to work on. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” she finally muttered, her tone defensive but laced with fatigue.

Nanami stopped writing and set his pen down carefully, his gaze meeting hers. His hazel eyes were steady, unfaltering, and filled with a concern that was impossible to ignore. “Because you’re not hiding it as well as you think,” he said simply. There was no judgment in his voice, just an observation that landed uncomfortably close to the truth.

Her shoulders sagged under the weight of his words. She sighed, dropping her pencil onto the table and leaning back in her chair. “I don’t know, Nanami. I just feel… off. Like something’s wrong, but I can’t figure out what it is.”

Nanami didn’t respond right away, giving her the space to gather her thoughts. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Sometimes,” he said after a moment, “it’s okay to not have all the answers. You’re human. Feeling lost doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.”

She stared at him, the unexpected kindness in his words catching her off guard. “But what if it’s not just me? What if it’s… other things? People?” She trailed off, the confession hanging in the air between them like a fragile thread.

Nanami’s expression didn’t change, but there was a slight shift in his posture, a silent acknowledgment that he understood more than she was saying. “If something — or someone — is making you feel this way, you don’t have to face it alone. You should talk to someone about it. Someone you trust.”

His words lingered in her mind, each one heavy with unspoken meaning. She wanted to tell him everything — the doubts gnawing at her, the way Suguru’s behavior didn’t add up, the emptiness she couldn’t seem to shake. But the thought of saying it out loud felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, the drop too terrifying to face.

Instead, she forced a smile. “Thank you, Nanami. I’ll think about it.”

He studied her for a moment longer, as if weighing whether to push further, but finally nodded. “Anytime.” Picking up his pen again, he returned to his work, his movements precise and deliberate.

[Name] tried to focus on her own homework, but the numbers and equations blurred together on the page. Nanami’s words echoed in her mind, intertwining with her own swirling thoughts.

When their study session ended, Nanami packed his books neatly into his bag. Before he left, he paused, his hand resting on the strap of his bag. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here,” he said softly, his tone so genuine it made her chest ache. Nanami hugged her before finally tossing his bag over his shoulder.

She nodded, watching him walk away with his usual calm, measured stride. As the library fell silent again, she sat back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of her secrets felt heavier than ever, pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket.

For the briefest moment, she considered taking Nanami up on his offer. But the thought of unraveling everything, of exposing the cracks she had worked so hard to hide, of the fear of judgment, of the fear of someone expossing everything to the whole university, was too daunting.

Instead, she stayed there, alone with her thoughts and the overwhelming quiet of the library.

As evening fell, [Name] sat alone in her dimly lit room, the faint glow of her phone screen illuminating her face. The silence pressed heavily around her, broken only by the occasional muffled sound from outside — a dog barking, a car passing by. She stared blankly at the wall, her thoughts racing but directionless, like a storm churning in her mind with no end in sight.

Her desk was cluttered with unfinished assignments and crumpled notes, remnants of tasks she’d started but couldn’t bring herself to finish. Even the simple act of picking up a pen felt like dragging herself through quicksand. Her bed was unmade, the sheets tangled from restless nights spent tossing and turning.

She’d told Utahime she wasn’t feeling well and skipped their lunch earlier that day. She hated lying to her, but the thought of forcing a smile and pretending everything was fine felt unbearable in that moment. [Name] didn’t want to face anyone — not when the storm inside her felt like it was on the verge of breaking, spilling out in ways she couldn’t control.

Her phone buzzed in her lap, jolting her from her spiraling thoughts. For a fleeting moment, her heart leapt, a desperate hope swelling within her. Suguru. Maybe he’d finally noticed her absence, finally decided to check in.

But it wasn’t him.

It was Riko Amanai.

Hey, just checking in. Are you okay?

[Name] stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She wanted to respond honestly, to tell Riko that she wasn’t okay, that she felt like she was drowning. But the words caught in her throat, the weight of her own thoughts silencing her.

Finally, she typed out a reply, her hands trembling slightly.

Yeah, I'm just tired from all that studdying, that's all. Thanks for asking, sweetheart .

She hesitated before pressing send, her chest tightening with a pang of guilt. Another lie.

Riko’s reply came almost instantly. If you need to talk, I’m here. Always.

The words hit her harder than she expected, and before she could stop herself, tears welled in her eyes. They blurred her vision, spilling over and streaking down her cheeks as she clutched her phone tighter.

But even as the tears fell, she didn’t respond. What could she say? That she felt like a shadow of herself, hollowed out by the weight of her doubts and fears? That she spent most nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what was wrong with her?

The thoughts swirled relentlessly, dragging her deeper into the void. She wiped at her face hastily, as if erasing the evidence of her unraveling would somehow make it less real.

No one had noticed — not Suguru, not Shoko her best friend, not even her teachers who saw her every day. She’d perfected the art of smiling, of nodding along, of being what everyone expected her to be. A people pleaser.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her back. It was another message from Riko.

Seriously, anytime. I’m here.

The sincerity in Riko’s words broke something in her, and she let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling as she typed out a response she would never send.

I’m not okay. I’m falling apart, piece by piece, and I don’t know how to stop it. It feels like I’m screaming into a void, but no one hears me. I’m surrounded by people who care, but it doesn’t matter — It's like I'm losing myself and I don't know why, it's like I can't be helped, I’m still drowning in this endless emptiness. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, and I can’t remember the last time I genuinely felt like myself. It’s like I’m fading away, and the worst part is, no one even notices and it fucking hurts. No one sees me slipping, not even the people I thought knew me best. I don’t even know if I’m worth saving anymore.

She stared at the unsent message, the words staring back at her like a confession she wasn’t ready to make. With a sigh, she deleted it and placed her phone face down on the bed.

Instead, she curled up in the corner of her room, her knees pulled tightly to her chest as the silence closed in once more. The storm inside her raged on, unseen and unheard by anyone else.

s the night deepened, the invisible threads connecting them all tightened, pulling each of them closer to the breaking point. Secrets layered upon lies, creating a suffocating web that clung to them, unseen but impossible to ignore. It was the kind of weight that settled in the back of their minds, growing heavier with each passing moment, yet they pretended it wasn’t there.

For Suguru, every lie he told was like a brick added to the fragile façade he had built. He wasn’t blind to the cracks forming, but he couldn’t stop. The thrill of deception had become its own addiction, feeding a part of him he didn’t dare acknowledge. Each time he looked at [Name], her adoring eyes searching his for truths he’d buried, he felt a fleeting pang of guilt. But it was fleeting, drowned out by the whispers of temptation that beckoned him back to Shoko.

For [Name], the web wasn’t invisible — it was suffocating. She could feel its strands tightening around her, constricting her every breath, yet she convinced herself it wasn’t real. Her mind was a battleground, torn between the image of Suguru she cherished and the shadows of doubt she couldn’t shake. She replayed their moments together like a broken record, searching for clues she didn’t want to find. Every laugh, every touch, every lingering kiss, every night spent together, — was it real? Or was it all part of a lie she was too afraid to confront?

Satoru carried the weight of knowing too much. The truth sat heavy on his chest, a burden he hadn’t asked for but couldn’t let go of. He watched Suguru navigate his double life with the precision of a skilled manipulator, and it churned something bitter in him. He’d warned Suguru once — told him that secrets like these had a way of unraveling, tearing apart everything in their path. But Suguru had laughed it off, confident in his ability to keep the pieces together. And so Satoru stayed silent, his loyalty to his oldest friend locking him into a role he hated.

Even Yo, so often dismissed as the carefree troublemaker, felt the pull of the web. His own secrets weighed heavy on him — the pills in his pocket, the deals that left a sour taste in his mouth. He told himself it was just temporary, that he’d walk away when the time was right. But the longer he stayed, the more tangled he became, the more the lines blurred between who he was and who he was becoming.

And then there was Shoko, the catalyst no one talked about. She wore her indifference like armor, but beneath it was something colder, sharper — a satisfaction in knowing the role she played. She wasn’t blind to the pain she caused, but she told herself it wasn’t her responsibility. Suguru had made his choices, and [Name] was too naïve to see the truth. It wasn’t her job to fix anything, even tho [name] saw her as a best friend, Shoko couldn't care less about her.

As the night stretched on, each of them felt the web pulling tighter, the strands digging into their skin. None of them could see the full picture, but all of them felt its weight. The lies they told themselves were the hardest to escape, echoing in their minds like a relentless tide: This is fine. I can handle this. Nothing’s going to fall apart. It will get better.

But deep down, they all knew better. The web wasn’t just trapping them — it was unraveling, one thread at a time. And when it finally gave way, none of them would emerge unscathed.

✨ Enjoyed this story? ✨ If you’d like to support my writing, consider leaving a tip or commissioning a custom fanfic on Ko-fi. Every bit helps me and my family, and I’m so grateful for your support! 💕

[mufos-photo-album]

Replying to these tags from prev:

#little baby of mine 😔 did I lose the story of how the scar was made??#please tell me I didn't lose the post where you explained that!! I'd love to know :(

I haven't posted how Mufo got her scar yet, not like that's the important part. The important part is what the scar represents to Mufo, and I will likely be infinitely be more secretive about that until I can find the right medium to tell that story (which is comic, probably).

A little while ago someone asked about Mufo arm lore, and I also realized I neglected to draw the scar in a recent post of mine. To rectify this, you now get a little bit of lore. A crump (crumb) of lore.

(Appearance of the scar is subject to change later once I like. Calculate more deeply how it formed in the first place)

[blueninjablade3]

For Once I’ll Thank the Croc.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” A shrill, girlish scream echoed throughout the entire ship. The scream so loud as to jolt your once peaceful sleep out of you. You’d recognize that scream from anywhere. You glanced over at Smee, who was already on his feet, racing to the deck. You sighed, knowing exactly what had happened.

You groaned as you slid yourself out of your old rag-tag hammock. Your feet hit the wooden floor as you sketched out your back. You slid on slippers before heading to the Captain’s quarters.

You had been working with Captain James Hook for around 5 months. Peter Pan had brought you here thinking you would be a “Great mother to the lost boys!” What he hadn’t thought of was that, one he kidnapped you, two you didn’t want to mother those little kids, and three you were a grown-up. For some reason, this was seen as a negative thing? You had no way home, no friends, and you didn’t exactly have a welcoming visit from either mermaids or the cannibal tribe. So, seeing no other choice, you chose to join up with Captain James Hook.

Hook had a terrible hate for that little devil. Which honestly? You understood. Hook had his hand cut off, fed to a bloodthirsty croc (who annoyingly followed everywhere), and was taunted daily by Pan. You saw no point. Peter was old enough to understand the pain he caused Hook. So why he didn’t leave Hook alone was beyond you.

Yet, you must admit Hook was undeniably lovely. He would make sure to be a more refined man and gallant man around you. Often opening doors for you, making sure you were full, and as an added bonus Hook taught you how to play a few notes on his piano.

A soft blush spread across your face as you thought of Hook. His handsome face, that charming little grin, his habit of running to walls accidentally-

You quickly snapped out of your trance as you arrived at his door. You heard heavy, shaking breathing as you arrived at the large brown door. You knocked three times out of respect. All you got was a shaky response.

“No…no…no…no it’s too early… you can’t take me!” The captain cried fearfully behind the door.

You couldn’t help but sigh. Poor Cap’n Hook. Honestly. The poor man couldn’t even get a decent night's sleep. You opened up the door to find Hook under a couch.

His long black hair was unkept, sloppy, and messy. He had the worst bedhead you’d ever seen.

His body shook violently as a gentle noise was heard outside.

Tick-Tok. Tick-Tok. Tick-Tok.

You could see his Hazel eyes scanning the room like a panicked deer. Even under his night clothes, you could see his muscles tensed up. He was as tense as a snake ready to lunge. Sweat dripped down his face in beads and he looked like an asylum patient.

You imperturbably sat next to the couch on the floor. The Captain’s eyes landed on you. His guard dropped for a moment. But just a moment, he relaxed. As if your very presence was calming to him. You let out a soft and mild sigh.

“Cap? You wanna come from under the couch? I promise Smee is dealing with the crocodile right now. Tic-Tok can’t get or hurt you right now.” You explained in the softest voice you can manage. This does nothing to calm the captain down as instead, he began thundering.

“NO! STAY AWAY! STAY AWAY!” Hook shrieked at the top of his lungs. You winced at the loud words coming from the man. His hook came dangerously close to your thigh. Only missing by a centimeter.

Your eyes exploded in size. In the 5 months you’ve known the Captain he’s never raised his hands to you. He’d even get mad if someone suggested raising a hand to you. He claimed it to be “Rude” and “Savage” to raise hands to someone who wasn’t looking for a fight.

You scrambled away as Hook climbed out from under the couch looking like an angry bull in a bullfight. The fear was still in those hazel eyes though. This wasn’t actual anger. It was his fear response.

In your attempt to get away, you unknowingly pinned yourself against a wall. Hook was on you in seconds. His hook glitters in the moonlight above you. About to crash into your head and possibly end your life. Is this the end? Are you going to die at the hands of Captain James Barthomelow Hook because of his angry outburst?

You close your eyes and wait… and wait… and wait…

But the cold steel never came down. Your eye cracked open. You gazed upon the glittering hook. Right above your head. It was almost like it was frozen in place. You shifted your sight to the weary captain's face. The ticking was gone. A heavy silence consumed the room. You took a look into Hooks's eyes and he broke down. He collapsed to his knees sobbing.

You didn’t believe it. You’d never see Hook cry and it only be about the crocodile. You gingerly reached out and embraced him. You expected a lot. To be shoved off, be yelled at, or maybe have your life like he was about to moments ago. But never in the seven seas did you think he’d hug you. He wrapped himself around her tightly and cried into your shoulder. He whimpered out apologies while soaking your shirt with his wet tears.

You gently guided him to bed.

“Let’s lay down big guy… are you okay?”

“I killed you… I almost killed you… (Y/N) I’m so sorry!” Hook sobbed into your shoulder. He was in hysterics trying desperately to apologize.

“Captain it’s okay-“

“NO ITS NOT OKAY! I SHOULD HAVE NEVER ATTACKED IN THE FIRST PLACE… what if I was the reason you passed away tonight… I don’t think I could have lived with the guilt me dear…”

You had to ask him. You couldn’t deal with not knowing why he acted like he acted with you. Why he didn’t finish the job.

“Captain. Why do you treat me differently from the others in your crew? Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m saying. You make sure I’m fed, you get upset when people try to hurt me, you’ve taught me a bit of piano and you’re one of the most gallant men I’ve ever met so cut the bullshit.”

You spoke authoritatively and without a tremble in your voice. You wouldn’t back down from getting answers. You felt you deserved them. Hook's eyes widened. He heaved a sigh.

“Aye. I won’t lie. I like you. I have since a few months back. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner I just… couldn’t find it in me to confess poppet.”

Hook was beet red from blushing so hard. He was nervous the whole time and did his best to keep his sentences short length to avoid stumbling and embarrassing himself more.

“I like you too darling. Let’s have a first date sometime James. But for now, rest. Rest, knowing you are safe in my arms.”

Hook didn’t have to say a thing. He just held you tighter. His eyes closed as you ran your finger through his hair gently brushing out the tangles. For once you could thank the croc.

WOOOO! Finally done with this little project. I hope you enjoyed reading it and the ending wasn’t too rushed. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated and as always master is right below. Thanks for reading and I wish you a great new year!

Masterlist

[kociakarma]

Hiii I really love your art and was wondering if you wouldnt mind showing what kind of brushes you use for your recent drawings thank you so much and i look forward to your future arts!

Of course! I've answered this a few times before but have never really tagged it properly, and I also realised that I've never actually explained what I use each brush for so I'll do that now!:

I'm gonna go through each of these brushes in order (and if i remember correctly, I'll link the top two since they arent default CSP brushes). (NOTE: almost all of these brushes have anti-aliasing turned off so that it can look more crispy and pixely!!! there is one exception to this that I will get into)

For this brush, I exclusively use it for sketching, it's advertised for inking digital manga panels, but with how the pen pressure is I feel like it adds form to my sketches

This brush, Sleuth-y Pen, is what I use mostly for MSPFA panels, mostly for lining, but sometimes for sketching too if I'm having a hard time with my usual sketching pen. It's really good if you want to replicate the homestuck style, and good for broad strokes on smaller canvases. The only issue is that the brush isn't great for that style if you use it on a larger canvas (ideally you would want 650 x 450) and can be especially messy if you're trying to get smaller details, such as open mouths, and certain facial details. I use another brush for that, which I will get into soon.

My second use for the sleuthy pen is for lineart on larger canvases in my usual artstyle! It has a texture to it that I like, as I like having my art appear a little rough around the edges, and the issue regarding small details isn't nearly as prominent of a problem

Almost done! Now we have the G-pen, a default CSP brush! This used to be one of my top 2 pens, along with its counterpart "Real G-pen" but nowadays I use it for two things: clean-up during rendering (usually getting those smaller details done that the sleuthy pen has difficulty with) and for doing SOME MSPFA panels (Vast Error, for example)

As you can see here, Liaaam's face is a little smoother than the rest of him, that's because I use the G-pen for those details, to keep things a lot cleaner! As for my other use, Vast Error's style from my understanding is a lot more "smooth" and "clean" which is why I exclusively use the G-pen for it, you can also make a lot of thick, juicy brush strokes with it which I feel works really well for the hair and folds in the clothes!

Finally, the Real G-pen, another default. This one is very similar to the last, its only differences are that it's slightly sharper and ever so slightly more messy. It's almost like a medium between the sleuth-y pen, and the g-pen.

I'll be honest, I don't use this pen much anymore, BUT, I still consistently use it for one thing and one thing only: Friendsim sprites. If you want to make friendsim sprites I highly suggest this pen, and making sure it's set to "weak" antialiasing. If you want to go the extra mile, I like to use a lasso-fill tool to block out shadows in all of my art, although if I'm using a rougher brush I'll usually do that manually. There's also other brushes I've been using more for rendering full pieces, such as a "rake brush" and a "design pencil" with low pressure to get details like blush down without making it too intense. That's basically it! I'll link the brushes below if I can find them: sleuth-y pen textured pen rake brush