#iNs over 1k ❂

[ink-n-shadow]

currently having the softest thoughts about dad!simon :’))

like the way he’s stripping off his Henley t-shirt at the hospital right after you give birth because he “read somethin’ about how bein’ skin to skin is better fer ‘em,” not wasting any time in letting your newborn child rest on his tattooed chest while you take a small break.

or how he would gently push you back into bed when the baby starts crying in the middle of the night (especially in those first couple of days), answering your mumbled annoyance with a smeared kiss to your forehead and pulling the comforter up higher around your body. “haven’t ‘ad good sleep in nine months, lovie—i’ll take care of the bug, ‘lright? tha’s it, go back to bed sweetheart.” takes care of the baby while he watches footy and rugby, one arm cradling the swaddled up little one against his chest as the other nurses half a beer (the other half having been poured into soap’s cup of whiskey, “fer added flavor”).

the boys actually enjoy having to transition from nights out to the bar to nights crowded in yours and simon’s basement. they all take turns cradling your newborn gently, snapping at each other when they get a bit too rowdy and more than happy to give you a break from the baby whenever you needed it.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the bosses daughter part two

words: 1k

warnings: 18+ only, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of past hookups, semi public sex, almost caught, golfer!rafe

part one / part two

“who are you looking at?” your dad questions, pressing his face to the window, but there's too many people mulling around to realize who your eyes are on.

“jesus.” you groan and pull the curtains shut. “no one! i was just looking outside at the storm coming in.”

“i don't believe you!” your dad calls as you stomp away. it's telling enough how often you've been at the club, and it's only a matter of time for him to realize that your drop ins are lining up with a certain instructors schedule.

you pull out your phone as you take a seat on the couch, navigating to rafes number. you exchanged it after your third hookup and have been texting nonstop since.

you quickly type out a message, knowing rafe will read it once he's done with his lesson.

supposed to storm soon. dad will notice if any carts are still out. meet you in the storage closet?

you wait for your dad to leave, probably heading back to his office or to scold some employee before you head towards the storage closet, knowing rafe is aware of the one you're talking about.

you sit down at the bench in the hallway, waiting until you hear the familiar footsteps of rafe walking down the hall.

“hi.” you stand up with a smile, pressing a kiss to his lips despite not being fully concealed, not too worried about the risk in the isolated area of the country club.

“hey gorgeous.” rafe opens the door and pulls you inside, listening to the chorus of your giggles.

“how was your lesson?” you ask as you both undress, ashamed that this will have to be another quickie, but knowing you need each other's bodies too bad to wait a moment longer.

“good.” rafe hums. “braxtons almost got his swing down.”

“aw, good for him.”

the moment all of your clothes are piled on the floor, the conversation stops abruptly as your lips meet each other's, kissing passionately.

“come here baby.” rafe presses your back to the door, hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you, getting so easily lost in your lips.

“come on.” you giggle, pulling away after a couple minutes of kissing. “we can't take too long. dad almost caught me watching you.”

“mmm, you just can't get enough can you?” rafe laughs, hands reaching under your thighs to pull you up. your legs lock around his hips, feeling his cock already hard and pressing against your stomach.

rafes lips are on yours again to swallow your moans as he angles his hips then pushes inside of you, cock feeling just right now that it's at home in your pussy.

“quiet.” rafe reminds you as he pulls away. sure, the likelihood of anyone walking down the hallway is incredibly rare, but he doesn't want to risk not being able to fuck you anymore.

rafe waits for you to nod before beginning to pump his hips forward, the only sounds being what escapes through your clenched lips and the sound of skin slapping together.

“so good and tight for me baby.” rafe whispers, burying his head in your neck. his lips quickly find the spot that he knows drives you wild, sucking a spot that will be hidden from view underneath your shirt collar, adding to his previous collection of hickeys left from past encounters.

“fff… faster.” you manage to say in a soft voice. 

rafe responds instantly, increasing his pace as you begin to bring your hips up and down, bouncing the best you can while still being hoisted in the air.

“that's it, baby.” rafe praises your effort. 

“god, your cock is just-” you gasp at a particularly hard thrust. “so perfect.”

“wait.” rafe pauses suddenly with his cock buried as deep inside of you as he can get it.

he presses his ear to the wood of the door, waiting and listening as footsteps make their way down the hallway. “shit.” rafe whispers.

“keep moving.” you whine in rafes ear. “please.”

“baby, shh.” rafe places a hand over your mouth, but you're not satisfied, hips pushing forward and back to force rafes cock to continue moving, needing to cum.

“you're gonna get us caught, dirty girl.” rafe whispers harshly in your ear, but he begins to help you bounce on his cock.

rafe listens carefully as the footsteps pass by the storage room and make their way out the rarely used back door.

“they're gone.” rafe says, slamming you hard against the door, hips pounding punishingly hard inside of you, cock swelling inside of you, a tell tale sign of his high approaching.

“harder.” you squeal. rafe isn't sure he can push himself any more, but he is willing to try for you, glad when your back arches forward, chest pressing into his as you cum with a not so quiet moan.

the pulsating squeezing of your cunt around his cock has rafe cumming hard, letting out low groans himself as he finishes off with a few pumps, riding out your orgasms together.

“fuck, you almost got us caught.” rafe laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips as he eases you off his cock carefully, hands staying on your hips until your feet are firmly on the floor.

“just can't resist you.” you giggle, grabbing your clothes and starting to get redressed. “i do hate all this sneaking around though.”

“you know…” rafe says, tugging his shirt over his head. “i say fuck it. let's just ask your dad if we can date. as much as i love fucking you after every shift, id like to also take you out and not just settle for texting you.”

“i guess it doesn't hurt to ask.” you shrug.

--

“dad…” you step into his office, rafe close behind you. “we wanted to talk to you about something.”

your dad stands up from behind his desk, his height imposing as his face twists to a sour one.

“and what would that be?” he looks past you at rafe.

“sir, i wanted to ask your permission to take your daughter out on a date. i will have her home by 10 pm.”

your dad's eyebrows raise up before he quickly wipes the surprised look off his face.

“fine.” he grunts out, eyes flickering between the two of you as you smile widely. “only because you're doing this the right way by asking me first.”

you attempt to disguise your laugh with a cough.

[neo-nomatrix]

Gold chain beneath your shirt, the shirt that you let me wear home

Luke Castellan x reader

word count: little over 1k

summary: no matter how hard you try to forget, there are signs of luke everywhere

a/n: smutty, angsty

He betrayed you, it wasn’t a dream or a stupid vision. He really betrayed you.

When Luke first brought up getting revenge on the gods you thought he was joking. He hadn’t mentioned “kronos’ army” , afraid that would be too much to jump onto you. You realize it far too late, that he was very much serious about his plan.

“You can join me. It’ll be just us again, remember? I can’t protect you,” He says, looking at you lovingly.

Luke had found you before departing camp, for good. He gave you a last chance to join him and the army. All while telling you what he had done to Percy.

“You tried to poison percy!” You yelled at him in the heat of the moment.

“I did what I had to do!” He screamed at you.

You backed up into the corner of your cabin, everyone else from your cabin gone. The few year rounders somewhere else.

“I’m not joining you Luke! That would be betraying everyone I love!” You yell back.

“What about me?! Huh?! You have hated the gods ever since I met you, what happened?” He questions.

“I may hate them, but I could never do this. I’m not a monster,” You quietly say, shaking your head.

“Fine. Make the wrong choice. But I won't be able to save you when the time comes,” He tells you cryptically.

You watch him walk away from you. You debate turning him in, but how? He’s stronger than you, faster, you know you can’t. All you can do is watch him walk away, possibly destroying both your futures. As he opens the door he looks back at you one last time.

——————

You’ve been rather alone at camp since summer ended. Percy and Annabeth return home while Grover goes off on his adventure for Pan. The only friends you have there are small acquaintances and your siblings. You decided you’re not quite ready to return home. You’ve had run-ins with monsters previously outside of camp and you aren’t prepared to deal with them again. Partially because your mind is flooded with Luke.

With the extra amounts of free time you find yourself rearranging your cabin and area. Sorting through your clothes over and over again. This time you find something you hadn’t previously, a thick plaid blue flannel. lukes. You pick it up and hold it in front of you. Memories flood in your head of Luke.

It’s mid June, you and luke’s favorite time for a swim in the lake. You find a lake hidden behind a forest of trees that’s quiet, perfect for you two. You were wandering in the forest together when you first found it. Hand in hand. The glimmering sun makes the water sparkle.

You start taking off your shirt and jean shorts while smiling widely.

“C’mon!” You laugh at Luke.

“You’re crazy,” he laughs at you, taking off his flannel and cargos.

He holds your hand as he pulls you into the crystal clear water. You both smile as the warm water touches your skin. Luke holds strongly onto your waist with one hand. The other acts like a paddle to push you into the middle of the lake. Your hands wrap about his neck, playing with his gold chain which has a feather charm hanging off of it.

He kisses your neck softly, roaming his calloused hands around your waist. You comb your fingers through his brown curls. Your thumb grazed over his scar below his right eye. You press a kiss on his lips, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He drops his right hand underneath the water and pulls your underwear aside. His long fingers teasing you entrance.

“Don’t tease,” you whisper against his lips.

He smiles and plunges one finger into you, letting out a breath of air as you moan. He kisses the sweet spot on your neck. Your mouth hangs open and you grind onto his fingers.

“You’re so fucking beautiful baby,” he mumbles.

“I’m a good girl right?” you moan softly.

“Are you? I don’t think so, baby,” he frowns, slowing his fingers down.

“W-what? no- no i’m a good girl, the best,” you say, eyes furrowing at his response.

“Hmm, maybe you should prove to me how good you are,” He whispers back, smirking.

“I’ll do anything,” you desperately say.

“Make yourself cum on my fingers,” he orders you, moving your hips against his bulge.

You grind your hips against his fingers. “You’re like a fucking dog in heat,” he laughs at you.

“I’m gonna- Luke i’m gonna,” you whine.

“Let go baby, be a good girl,” He smiles.

You cum harshly on his fingers, he slowly pumps in and out riding you out. He continues pressing kisses against you, his over hand roaming your body.

“Good girl, my good girl.”

You both get out of the water tired. Allowing the sun to soak into you, drying you off. You put your shorts back on before realizing your shirt has gotten mud on it.

“Luke! My shirt!” you cry out to him.

“Here, take this,” He laughs at you, throwing his flannel at you.

You smile back at him, putting the flannel over your shoulders. You go up to him and wrap your arms around his tall figure.

“Wish we could stay here forever,” You mumble.

“I think we can work something out.”

——————

You stare at the shirt, smiling. You wonder what it would be like if he never left, if it could be just you forever. You hug the shirt longingly, going to your bunk and wrapping yourself in the flannel. You feel a hard metal in the pocket, his chain. You hold it in your palm; small tears pooling in your eyes.

“Fuck you Luke. Why’d you have to do this?” You look out the window, angry and sad.

You wish for a different ending. You wish he stayed. You wish you had gone with him, maybe it would’ve just been you two. You wish you had stayed in that moment forever. You wish it wasn’t true. You wish he hadn’t left.

You love Luke Castellan, even though you wish you dont. You hate yourself for falling for it. You hate him for making you fall for him.

[meowstri]

you could wipe my mind, i'd still be stuck on you

tags: peter parker x fem!reader, tooth-rotting fluff, college/university au, lots of sarcasm, 1k words synopsis: while going out shopping to buy snacks for movie night, your bf, peter parker, tries to convince to you to let him get a new video game. chaos ensues. a/n: wow hey welcome to my first fic posted on here... sorry if this seems rushed haha. tysm @103rafes for helping me with the ending, ily man. reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!! title is from stuck on you by grentperez

"alright, i think we've got everything!" your eyes scanned through the various assortment of junk food in the grocery cart. "movie night is gonna be awe-" You turned to face your bf only to find no one standing near you. "ugh... where is that idiot?"

walking around the store, you find your boyfriend of 1 year, peter parker, in the electronics section. of course he was. you thought, he probably even forgot what they were at the store for.

he was staring intently at the newest spider-man video game. Spider-Man 2, it had came out just last month and everyone was going crazy over it. he had a scrunched up look on his face, studying the cover of the game in the clear display case.

as you walked up to him, his senses picked up on your location and he turned his head around, quickly glancing at you before turning his head back towards the display case. "i still can't believe they make video games of me. they really captured my likeness" he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "i am so going to get this."

rolling your eyes, you sighed. "no we're not mister. c'mon its time to go home." you tugged on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, but Peter still didn't move an inch.

"please y/n... ned has the game! so does everyone we know!"

"why don't you just go over to ned's house and play it?" you suggested, rolling your eyes once again. "yeah, keep rolling your eyes. it'll be stuck like that soon enough." he huffed with a pout. "if you let me get it i'll let you pick the movie tonight. i know you love those cheesy hallmark movies..." peter said in a sing-songy voice. he leaned in to give you a small peck on the cheek and looked at you with his chocolate puppy-dog eyes.

"your silly antics don't work on me." you can't help but let out a giggle as buried his face into your neck and kissing every expanse of skin on it. peter wrapped his arms around your waist hugging you close. "but no. out of the both of us, you're the worst at managing your spendings and we need the money."

he hummed. "but mr. stark gave me my paycheck on monday, its more than enough to buy the game and put away some of it in our savings..."

"you mean your allowance?"

"hey! i may not be an avenger, but i still work for one of the richest people in america" he laughed, messing up your hair. "so... can i still get it?"

you hesitated for a moment, doing some calculations in your head. the two of you lived together in a dingy apartment and did extra jobs on the side to keep the both of them afloat. you knew peter worked hard a lot, trying to keep his grades up while maintaining his life as the city's spider-man so maybe he did deserve something nice for himself.

the corners of your mouth lifted in a small smile. "well..."

—

“did you see that! i beat his ass so hard.” your bf laughed. you watched intently at the screen trying to decipher what was going on but all you could see were bright flashes of colour.

“you already beat ass in real life. don’t understand why you need to buy this game just to play a virtual version of yourself.” you said jokingly while eating from the bowls of chips and candy you bought earlier that day. you grimaced as you peter took a large handful of m&ms and popcorn, shoving them into his mouth.

“true, but this is more fun.” he said between mouthfuls. “plus i don’t get hurt.” he gave you a dorky little grin.

well there was no denying that, you thought as you smiled back. as much as peter tried to argue, you insisted on paying for the game as a gift. just seeing peter smile over some silly game made you fall in love with him all over again. it was surreal, dating the spider-man. the same one that appeared on the news 24/7. the same one that made you worry for days wondering if he might come back from saving crime.

but he wasn’t just spider-man. he was just plain old peter parker. the boy from queens that you met all those years ago. the boy who was practically an academic genius and the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

interrupting you from your thoughts, peter wrapped his arm around your shoulder and held you tightly. he had already finished playing the game but he still grasped the controller in his hand.

“what are you thinking about?” he asked quietly, playing with the strands of hair falling on your shoulders. he smelled like fresh laundry and a hint of butter from the popcorn.

“what?”

peter chuckled. “you were staring at me with that look you get when you’re thinking really hard. like your nose scrunches up a bit and you have this wide smile on your face”

“oh… i wasn’t really thinking about anything.” you locked eyes with him, staring into his big, doe brown eyes. you shimmied closer to him and rested your head on shoulder. “just thinking about how great you are.”

“thanks for feeding my ego— ow!” you punched him on the arm but there was no anger to it. “im joking, im joking. you’re great too.” the smile lines on his face deepened.

peter leaned his head against yours. “thank you for getting me that game by the way. i love you.” he pressed his lips against your temple, making a line down towards your cheeks, then ending at your lips. they were soft and warm, and he tasted like slightly like chocolate.

“mm, love you too spidey-boy. now play your game, i didn’t spend 90 dollars on that for nothing.” you giggled lightly.

unable to pull away from your face, he grumbled. “okay, okay! way to ruin a moment with my lovely girlfriend…”

“does this spider-man have a girlfriend too?” you nodded towards the screen.

“you’re better than any video game girlfriend i could have as spider-man”. you couldn’t help but let out a string of laughs as he pulled you in again, planting kisses all over your face.

fin.

[wildemaven]

life and loss | joel miller

pairing: dave york x f!reader / joel miller x f!reader word count: 1k content warnings: 18+ blog; death, grief/loss, major character death (no description of said death), AU and crossover universes, kind of fluffy, navigating loss, reader is non descriptive/blank slate. notes: this randomly came to me yesterday on my walk. It was meant to be just a moodboard and a small blurb to go along with it… and then this happened. Oops! Tried to pack a lot into a small thing so hopefully it makes sense.

Momentos of him, your late husband, have remained tucked away for the last year following his unexpected death. As you settle into your new widowed life and new home over a thousand miles away from the life you created with Dave, all the beautiful memories reside in cardboard boxes out of sight. 

Word travels quickly through the small neighborhood about your arrival and marital status— or lack thereof. Welcoming introductions turn into unannounced check-ins and flowers. Uncomfortable small talk on your front porch is sprinkled throughout the following weeks, a hand on your shoulder accentuates their let us know if you need anything. Sympathetic casseroles finally dwindle allowing you to finally ease into this new season of your life. 

The hammock left by the previous owners becomes your sanctuary most evenings. Searching for the brightest star in the night’s sky, then asking Dave how he’s doing before reading aloud to him the words from your latest book. 

It's days later when you’ve read the final word that a small voice from over the fence manifests as a quirky teenage girl sitting at a table you’ve set up on your back patio. She has a million and one questions about the book and is filled with theories about what happens beyond its ending. The side gate is never regularly latched closed now, eagerly awaiting Ellie’s return. She navigates most of your late night conversations that follow, including personal stories and the history of her life. My grump of an old man is in construction. He’s single by the way— not by choice, but life happens. 

His voice is calloused the first time he makes his presence known to you. Goddamn it, Ellie! I told you to leave her alone! They exchange brittle words back and forth through the shared barrier, before you insist he join the two of you. The crunch of his boots on the ground stall when he towers over where you’re still seated. His hand engulfing yours, warm and gentle as he tries to determine where his gaze should fall— you, the ground, the smirking teenager sitting across from you. Joel. Joel Miller. Uh, Ellie n’ I live next door. Not sure how long she’s been botherin’ you, but I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen again.

It’s weeks later when you run into Joel at the mailboxes. The clanking of keys and squeaky hinges fill the space between you before you’re both retreating back to your respective pathways. Your hands fidget and twist the bills and letters from your parents when you bravely initiate a conversation before he’s able to reach his front door. She’s the first person since moving here who wanted to talk to me about something other than the death of my husband. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I have with her in a long time. She’s welcome over here anytime. 

He reeks of nervousness as he stands on your doorstep the following evening. The ambered hue of his eyes absorb the warmth from the front porch light, adding a brightness to them that they seem to be commonly lacking. His words waver a bit as he begins to speak, starting and stopping, scrubbing his hand down his face before he attempts to start again. You offer him nothing but patience, sensing the mournful energy radiating off him— similar to the one you’ve been carrying. My wife and older daughter— they were both in an accident on their way to Sarah’s soccer game. I was pickin’ up Ellie from her counseling group for adopted kids. We were headin’ to the soccer field when I got the call. Some days are harder than others. And everyone wants to help, however that may be— lots of food as I’m sure you know. It doesn’t ever really get easier, but you learn to live with grief. Anyways, if you ever need anything or just want to talk— you know where I live.  

He accepts your impulsive invitation to join you for dinner, offering him the open seat across from you in the same spot as your timid first meeting. The crickets orchestrate the evening ambience as you share stories you’d tucked away, too painful to revisit until now. You find you laugh just as much, if not more, with Joel. Even among the tears shed, the conversation is filled with a hope and optimism that you longed for. 

You still feel his wholesome embrace long after you’ve called it a night to seek out much needed sleep. But much like the nights that ensued after Dave’s death, loneliness and the weight of your grief rear its head. 

The black ink glides over the surface of the paper. Line after line formulated a year’s worth of unsaid words that had been bottled up and blockaded by the rigid walls you’d built around them. Joel was right about the therapeutic effect of getting rid of the burdensome thoughts that come with loss, finding it’s hard to stop now that you’ve started. 

You convey the love that you still carry for Dave, something you’ll never willfully ignore or regret. It feels wrong but you touch on the hatred you feel towards his death; you hate him for leaving you, hate that you miss him, hate that some nights you forget the small details that you cherished about him. You tell him about Joel and the kindness he’s afforded you in a short time of knowing him and that there’s life beyond losing the love of your life. To look for the light even when shrouded by darkness. 

Pictures and trinkets find their way out of the cardboard confines Joel helped pull out from the guest room closet. The bare walls now filled with familiar faces and shelves adorn with colorful memories that you tried so hard to keep hidden. 

Joel and Ellie being a constant presence in your life allows you to see that life can surprise you when you least expect it and there’s room for new love. 

[milkbobatyun]

perfect, but not for me

pairing: dr ratio x reader

genre: angst

summary: they saw the two of you as perfect. you both were, but the aeons did not make you for each other

word count: 1k

a/n: inspired by the hozier song 'too sweet', i highly recommend you listen to it while reading this! the only reason why i haven't posted in ages is cus it's exam season for me right now, and i've got pretty important ones that will determine my future so im putting that as priority for now!

in the eyes of the scholars at the intelligentsia guild, you and veritas ratio were the perfect couple. your love story was one out of a romance storybook, childhood love, who were polar opposites, the epitome of sunshine and grumpy. they didn’t see how the honeymoon period was waning, how you were struggling to keep up the happy façade.

you saw the world through rose-tinted glasses, your head always lost in the clouds. you were a dreamer, enjoying life to its fullest. yet, veritas ratio was different. he saw the world in its black and white, ugly, organic form. he stepped through life with a logical mind, silently analysing every glance and gesture, as though looking at an equation only his practised eyes could see.

you loved staying up late at night, relishing in the faint glow of warmth from your lamp, illuminating your desk as your mind wandered, drawing ideas from the world around you. some days, you stayed up till the dark, bejewelled night gave way to milky dawns, some nights you slept early. your life was a combination of sporadic bursts of energy.

veritas valued order and routine over everything else. you could recite his schedule off the top of your head: an hour-long bath after work, evenings spent huddled at his desk, grading papers, a helping hand at dinner before he curls up in a nearby chair, nose buried in his book. all this was executed with clockwork precision. once the clock hit 9, veritas would turn to bed, his alarm forever set up for an early awakening.

you loved to douse your coffee in sugar and milk, while veritas could feel the tooth-ache just from watching you spoon the white powder into your milky coffee. he often joked that normal people had coffee with a splash of milk, while you had milk with a splash of coffee.

unlike you, he drank his coffee black, with no add-ins and a straight face. yours scrunched up with displeasure as you imagined the bitter liquid running down your throat.

despite your differences, you still had similarities. the two of you were stupidly devoted to your work. 

you savoured any moment you had to sketch, a notebook and pencil never leaving your hands. new ideas flowed from your fingertips. your mind was a never-ending fountain of imagination. there was never a day when the other scholars saw you without a pencil stuck behind your ear or glued to the paper you always carried.

on the other hand, veritas was practically married to mathematics. he held a strong passion for teaching the arithmetic subject, nose always buried in a book, his mind busy gnawing away at a new maths problem.

even with your similarities, there were times in your relationship when you struggled living with and loving such a logical man.

when the nights were sleepy, the quiet seemed to hang, like a thick blanket over the two of you, only broken by the swish of pages turning. you doodled a new design for his plaster head absentmindedly in your notebook. your hands itched to show him, but you could guess his answer: a small, polite smile and nod. he would mutter some surface level praise, before turning back to his book.

before, his quiet praise and small, rare smile made your breath hitch and your face flame. now, it left you feeling desolate and hopeless, like an artist staring at their piece, trying to work out what went wrong.

“why don’t you ever clean up?” veritas’ voice broke through the quiet ambience of the house, his gaze fixated on the papers, piled haphazardly upon your desk, sketches and prototypes littering the floor. his brows were furrowed with distaste, hands pinching at his nose bridge in exasperation.

“i do,” you protested, though guilt and shame was evident on your face. “it’s just…i get inspiration.” you meekly finished.

veritas’ sigh of disappointment made your stomach drop and your heart clench. “no wonder you never get anything done.” veritas’ voice was clipped, “chaos doesn’t ever breed results.”

lately, the air in the house felt stifling, choking the life out of your lives. around the reviered dr ratio, you felt like you were walking on eggshells. everything he said pushed a button in you, and everything you did seemed to piss him off.

he supressed the urge to snap at you every time another prototype found its way into his slipper, while you swallowed back every sharp retort on your tongue. he didn’t understand you. inspiration wasn’t orderly, it was messy, bursts of energy—unpredictable and fleeting.

every word he spoke, no matter how well-meaning, felt like an attack. veritas really had a way with words. it wasn’t what he said, but the disappointment and annoyance that subtly laced his words, their sharpness striking deep into every weakness. you tried to understand his logic, but it was like trying to touch the clouds. you could see it, but no matter how far you tried to stretch, it slipped through your fingers, dancing just out of reach before dissolving into a mystery you would never be able to unravel.

it truly amazed the both of you how long it took for you to realise that this wasn’t going to work. you were simply too different from each other. holding onto this relationship was like trying to jam two pieces of a puzzle together, even when they didn’t fit. the more you tried to make the fit, the more the edges frayed, the corners becoming worn down. the picture blurred, its picturesque scene warped into an unrecognisable smear of colour.

you were as wonderful as an angel sent from heaven, soaring with your head in the clouds, and he was as perfect as a greek statue, steadfast and steady. perfection in your own ways but so different from each other. soft features were not enough to bend marble, no matter how tightly you held on. love, as powerful as it was, could only go so far.

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora, @pastelmitzuki

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 26: Thereafter

Start From Beginning | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1k AN: This is more of an epilogue of sorts. There's not a lot of dialogue, but it does kind of wrap everything up. I really have enjoyed writing this, and I hope you have enjoyed it as well :) thanks for a fun time and a great ride. I could say 5,000 more things about this fic and how much I love you for supporting it, but let's finish this up :)

It had taken Ace a few days to make the house liveable, but plenty of people had opened their homes for you to stay in while you all finished the essential repairs. They never made you feel like a burden, and even though you tried to keep to yourselves, they were eager to get to know you.

You had expected to pay for all the tools you needed, but the townsfolk on this island were kind and generous. Several families had lent Ace tools, and some had even come by to offer their help. Even though you were on a hill outside of town, people dropped in throughout the day, bringing baked goods or hand-sewn linens as welcoming gifts. 

So much for privacy. You had more of it in your shared bunkhouse on the Moby Dick. 

But you didn’t find yourself irritated by the townspeople’s check-ins. While most of them asked basic questions about your past and eyed Ace’s scarred back, they never pried. And even better, they always seemed to know when it was time to leave. 

After a few weeks, you had fallen into a strange pattern of familiarity. Even as your belly grew bigger, you tried your best to help Ace as much as you could every day. In the morning, you would get up and make him coffee. He would always scold you, claiming that you were the one who was supposed to be pampered right now, but he continued to allow you to do it for now. 

You all would eat a quick breakfast, and then begin to work on house improvements. The morning was the best time to work, since it was still cool out. The two of you patched up holes in the walls and began to decorate the inside of your little two-bedroom cabin. The projects never seemed to end.

And every morning while you worked, Mr. Cheddle would deliver a newspaper, and you would invite him in for breakfast. If he declined, you would send him some kind of snack to thank him for bringing the paper up the hill. You knew he didn’t mind, but you still felt obligated to send him away with something. 

You’d leave Ace to go make lunch, and usually find some variety of baked goods on the counter from someone welcoming you to the town. You often found yourself wondering if people would ever stop sending you things, or if you would become someone who baked for your neighbors just for the hell of it. 

At lunch, you would read the paper and update Ace on anything interesting. Afterwards, the two of you would typically walk to town together to find something to do. Some days you would shop, others you would go your separate ways. Whether it was tea with Arabelle, or a walk in the park with Crilly and her three dogs, or even sitting at Sellie-Tien’s shop and catching up on gossip, you always found something to do. 

And as the sun set, you and Ace would walk back up the hill, talking of your time spent apart, and even stopping to chat with others along the road. 

What a strange life you were living. How mundane it all was. And yet…perfect. 

On one particular day it had been too hot for you to work, even in the morning. And with nothing to do, you decided to read the News Coo early. You kept your eyes peeled for any words of Luffy, but there had been no news of him since his stunt at Marineford. 

However, today there was far more interesting news on the front page. One you had been waiting for. 

One about Portgas D. Ace.

“You’re dead!” You cheered, holding up the News Coo to show Ace. 

Ace dropped his tools and ran over to you, reading it over quickly. 

“They made a grave for me and everything,” he said. “Impressive.” 

“It helps that they took your hat,” you mentioned. He pouted at the thought. 

“I’m gonna miss that hat.” He handed the paper back to you. “What about you?”

“Still nothing.” You read through the article once again just to make sure you hadn’t skipped anything. “I doubt they’ll officially say I’m dead.”

“Really?” Ace asked. “Why’s that?”

“Because they reported it wrong once,” you admitted, setting the paper down. “They can’t do that again. Can you imagine the embarrassment?”

“But they won’t bother us here.” Ace looked out over the ocean. “They don’t have jurisdiction.”

“That’s why Marco chose it for us,” you said. “It’s quiet. Out of the way. Nobody will bother us. It’s perfect.”

“Seems like a more than fair trade off,” Ace said, and you nodded in agreement. 

“We finally get to have our happily ever after.”

Ace smiled at you, kissing your cheek. “And I can’t wait to spend it with you. Our perfect little family.”

---

Sengoku stared long and hard at a small piece of paper with little hearts doodled all over. Against everything that he knew and had been told, the card sat between his fingers in perfect condition. 

Garp walked into the room, full of drive and purpose. “Listen Sengoku, I need to tell you something. I-“

“I know,” he said. “You’re going to retire. But before you turn in that resignation letter, I want to give you something.”

Sengoku handed off the piece of paper covered with hearts. “Do with this what you will. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never seen it.”

Garp examined it, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw the name written across it in perfect cursive. Ace. 

“Where did you get this?”

“We took it off Portgas D. Ace when he arrived at Impel Down.  We thought it belonged to him, but that must not be the case, since he’s dead now.”

Garp held the card in his hand carefully. The paper slowly inched away from him. “So who’s it belong to then?”

“Probably nobody,” Sengoku shrugged. “I’m about to retire myself, and that little scrap of paper seems like a lot of paperwork and a lot of personal investigation. I just don’t have it in me. Especially for some pirate who we all saw die. Take it off my hands for me. Do something with it, just don’t tell me what. As a favor.”

“Yes sir,” Garp said, tears in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“No Garp,” Sengoku said. “Thank you.”

--

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[espinosaurusrexex]

Congrats on 1k followers, you deserve it! I love your writing so much, I’d love to see you write a Bucky x Reader Mind Reader fic where enhanced!reader can read minds and knows that Bucky is pining after her.

THANK YOU! Part of that is because you keep supporting my work, and I love you so much for it 🥰💕💗 - seriously go check out M's page for some great fic recommendations!

Mind Reader (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

BuckyBarnes x Enhanced!Female!Reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: pining, fluff, Bucky being very sweet but also self-sabotaging, language

It started off like a whisper. You weren’t used to whispers. Normally, people talked to themselves in moderate volumes. Who would be afraid of their own thoughts after all? But Bucky was different. He was so different, in fact, that you had mistaken his thoughts for something entirely else. 

You should go over to them, be part of the group. I can’t.

They were like conversations. But not like thoughts usually were. More like a constant...

No wonder nobody likes you. You’re a coward.

...fight.

Shut up.

You looked up at Bucky who was shaking his head with a frown over at the other end of the room. Wanda and Sam were standing by the window talking, laughing. Bucky was never part of it and it saddened you a little. Especially because he was actually very sweet. He just never showed it. But that’s why you liked to occasionally listen to his thoughts. 

That was very well said, Steve. Good job.

It made you smile. And even though you had promised the team not to do it, sometimes, you couldn’t help yourself. He was just...

I like that braid Natasha did today, maybe she can braid my hair like that too.

...so...

This is the best food I’ve ever tasted. Wow, Sam.

..cute.

And that’s why you did it occasionally.

You got up from your seat at the kitchen island and walked over to the sink. Bucky stepped aside to give you space. He was still a little timid around everyone. You talked to him frequently though, trying to include him in activities and general conversation to make sure he didn’t feel left out. And he appreciated it. 

“Thank you,” you whispered before passing him to leave the room.

Oh, wow. She smells very good. Don’t be a creep.

You bit back a smile before leaving, your heart skipping a small beat before settling in its pace again. Bucky was so endearing with his little compliments. But he would never dare say them out loud - not with that condescending voice he harbored as well.

You wanted to do something about it, but you also knew it would reveal your little secret of occasional drop-ins to his mind. And you were sure this was a boundary you couldn’t cross with Bucky yet. Steve? Sure, what was he going to do about it? Sam would probably close his ears to prevent you from listening to his thoughts - he didn’t think a lot of times... Nat would probably not mind at all, but Bucky? No, you didn’t know what it would do to him. 

So you restrained. But it became harder and harder with time as Bucky’s thoughts turned in a direction neither of you had expected. 

She looks so pretty today. 

He was subtle at first, surprised by his own mind but somehow content. Over time, you looked at him afterward, he smiled, a small blush creeping over his cheeks to his ears. It was adorable. 

He noticed things nobody else did. He had attention to detail, and he was so interested in the smallest of things you did. 

Did she put on eyeshadow? Her eyes are shining. Not for you.

But it was always there, at the end of each compliment - ready to destroy the little warmth he spread in your heart - that voice. That annoying, down-talking, and toxic voice his mind hosted and that was nothing like the Bucky he revealed to the outside. 

I wish I could hold her hand. She will run away from you.

Your heart clenched with every day his mind ruined the few soft moments Bucky allowed himself. You wanted to just grab him, squish him tight and tell that stupid voice to shut up. Because you did want to hold his hand during movie nights, or that day he noticed your new nail polish, or the time your fingers brushed against his when he handed you a mug. And it was killing you, tearing you apart from the constant tug of war his mind was playing. 

You wanted to hear the compliments he thought of but at the same time, the flip side of his thoughts became more painful every time. Still, you challenged him, walked past him closer, looked at him longer, talked to him more - just to feel the goosebumps building when his kind words reached your mind. Unfortunately... just for them to be destroyed right after.

Her lips look so soft. I bet she’s a good kisser. Fucking creep.

So, you eventually got so used to listening, it became more and more difficult to distinguish thought from spoken words with time. You couldn’t stop, though, it was too thrilling - too nice to be appreciated.

You found yourself lingering in spaces Bucky was more often. Not necessarily talking, just being in the same place, stealing glances, listening to his mind - finding calm in the soothing tone of his silent monologues... however condescending they ended up being. 

Right now, you were doing exactly that: Sitting in the common room, reading a magazine while Bucky sat across from you, mindlessly opening and closing his book, but you knew he wasn’t reading...

Imagine what it would be like to just be able to go over and sit next to her.

You smiled, biting your cheeks immediately.

Calling her my girl... Jesus, I don’t think I know how dating works anymore.

You stole a glance at him, but Bucky was looking down quickly, tracing the cover of his book with his index finger. 

You will never find love again... that’s ok, it’s too overwhelming anyway.

This time, you had to will yourself to keep your eyes on the page. They hadn’t moved over a single word for the entire time. You shook your head, took a deep breath, and tried to actually read. Bucky’s mind was silent for some time, and as much as you liked hearing him, it was nice to not experience his sad thoughts.

After a while, you began to actually read. The article was actually somewhat entertaining, you should have done it sooner. Your eyes flew over the page, eating up the meaning behind the latest internet trend, your fingers flipping to the next page.

That outfit looks so good on her. That’s her color. I wish I had a color.

“It’s cerulean,” you laughed absentmindedly, your eyes nearing the end of the page.

“What?” Oh my god.

Oh shit. Your head shot up immediately, sight panic surging up your spine. “The answer for my crossword.” Close call.

You’d think that after this accident, you had gotten more careful, maybe stopped reading his mind so much. But something always drew you towards him. When Bucky was in the room, even Peter's weird and random rabbit hole thoughts seemed to move in the background. 

You craved Bucky’s thoughts - they excited you, made you feel like no one else’s compliments ever did - so you didn't stop. But today, you actually wished you had...

Bucky’s mind was particularly gruesome today. He and Steve had just come back from a rather frustrating mission. Many pedestrians were injured, no targets contained - and it made the bad voice in his head take over. 

You’re such a failure, Steve risked his life to save you and for what? For you to fuck it all up again. 

The common room was empty when you heard it. You were the only one in the adjacent kitchen, Bucky’s thoughts preceding his entrance by a few seconds. When he entered, he stopped in his tracks, looked at you, and let a small “Hi.” Slip past his lips.

“Hey,” you responded sadly. There was no compliment today. His mind went back to his prior train of thought immediately. 

“How are you?” You carefully asked to loosen the awkwardness, but Bucky just turned to the fridge with a gruff mumble.

“Fine.”

It would have probably been better for everyone if Hydra just had had its ways with me. Had me die of all the torture eventually. Then all of this would have never happened. 

Tears sprung to your eyes at his thoughts. But it was even worse, you couldn’t help him - he had never really told you and it was eating you alive. 

Everyone is just better off without me...

And then a slight sniffle escaped you, the tears running freely as you imagined Bucky not being part of your life. It was so sad that he couldn’t see how important he was to all of you. You especially. He had made your life at the compound so much brighter, was a thing you always looked forward to as a part of your day.

"Are you okay?” Bucky turned immediately, his eyes going wide when he saw your distraught face. You fucking idiot, of course she’s not okay. It’s probably your fault, too. 

“Stop!”

“Stop what?” He moved closer. “Stop what?”

“The arguing, the- the constant downplay.” You wiped your tears but there was no use, fresh ones were already replacing them. 

“Doll, I don’t know what you-”

You shook his frame, your hands wrapping around his biceps. “I need you! Nobody would be happier if you were dead!”

It was dead silent for a moment. You could watch as the confusion shook from Bucky’s face with every jolt you were giving him. But you didn’t care. It was enough - he was enough. 

When your hands finally let go, Bucky cleared his throat, his eyes, however, never left yours.

"So you do read my thoughts.” 

“I-“ but your mouth was faster than your mind. You didn't know what to tell him. You had promised the team to never do it. You knew it was a breach of privacy, a breaking of trust. Your head hung low as you avoided Bucky’s eyes. They weren’t furious, or confused - really, nothing you had imagined them to be if he ever found out. He was kind of... calm. As if something had been lifted off his shoulders - it must have been the closure you provided him with. 

You dared to glance up again just to be met with that confusing look of his again, and the fact he wasn’t saying a thing made you panic. “I’m sorry, I was too curious. Because every time I...” You sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. There was no use in defending your actions. “I’m sorry. I promised not to read your minds and I did it anyways. That’s not okay.”

But Bucky didn’t seem to listen to the words tumbling over your tongue in desperation. His brows were scrunched when his eyes flicked to the ceiling and then back to you. What the hell was this about?

“If you heard that... did you also hear my... you know...” Oh. Right. The compliments. How could you have forgotten? They were the very reason you were in this situation right now. 

You breathed in deeply. “Yeah.” And it felt a lot better now that it had all been said. 

“Oh.” Bucky’s cheeks tainted in pink when he turned in place awkwardly. But even though the kitchen was massive, there was no real hiding from you. 

You watched as he shuffled in front of you, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and looked anywhere but at you. And it reminded you of the Bucky only you got to experience in secret. The one whose thoughts never left that brain of his and it warmed you from the inside out again. 

“Thank you,” you finally whispered, careful not to chase him away. Because it looked like he was about to bolt, though something was keeping him from doing so.

“For what?” Big blue orbs found yours again, intrigue and confusion weaving through his features - it was adorable.

You bit your lip. “All the compliments. You’re very charming, you know?” Part of you wondered if the old Bucky - 40s Bucky - was just like this. Innocently sweet, maybe with a hint of shameless flirting though. “You are such a great person, Bucky. If the others could hear how incredibly attentive you are. They would love to have you around more.”

Your hand reached out to touch his arm and the blush on his cheeks deepened.

“I’ll try,” he smiled, the tension from before seemingly forgotten in the vast kitchen.

You smiled as well, riding on a wave of confidence when you leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his heated cheek.

Sweet Jesus, I think I’ll pass out. 

You just chuckled and left. The other conversation hanging in the room had to wait for now. First, you wanted to see Bucky mingle with the crowd, get comfortable, then, you’d work on finally making him yours. 

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[fastcardotmp3]

stobin on the run; ronance; background steddie; 1k words

After everything, after Vecna, after the Gates close, Robin is never quite able to let go of Starcourt.

None of them are, to a certain extent, but the particular way Robin Buckley clings to Russian conspiracies and the fear of what it would mean for her and her friends if they ever decided they weren't done with those kids who knew just a little too much, is actually dangerous.

She keeps an eye on things, learns Russian for real, never really lets go of the paranoia that any drink she doesn't make herself might be spiked, might be the one that takes her down long enough for her to end up in another cell with no windows and no hope for getting out.

It's dangerous because she's smart.

It's dangerous because of how damn close she gets.

When Agent Stinson shows up on her doorstep and tells her its not safe for her to remain where she is, living the life she's leading, her initial response is to tell her to go fuck herself. Robin hasn't been safe since 1985. Robin hasn't been safe since long before then either, given Steve's stories, given El's.

But the fact of the matter is she's something of a national security risk. The binders tucked under false bottomed drawers in her and Steve's apartment are borderline treasonous.

When Agent Stinson says, "you're not safe," she means from their own government as much as an enemy one, and that?

Well, that earns a different response.

It doesn't feel obvious to her that Steve would come with her when she runs.

He's built a life here in Indianapolis, a job he likes painting houses and a burgeoning relationship with the guy they both came to adore while waiting by his hospital bedside, but when she reflects upon this out loud he gets more angry than he's ever been.

Not loud, but mad all the same, that she'd ever presume to leave him behind when her life was in danger.

So Steve comes.

They're in Scotland first, the quickest flight they were able to get seats on after driving themselves to Canada, and then Italy for a while. They jump below the equator to Argentina and then even lower to Australia.

They see the world. They leave their lives behind. They leave their people too.

And it hurts. It hurts to be hunted by the government they've covered for their entire adult lives. It hurts because of how unsurprising it is.

It hurts to be lonely for no reason other than knowing too much.

It hurts enough to, one day, embrace the danger again.

One day isn't today.

One day isn't the day Nancy Wheeler's phone call doesn't get picked up.

At twenty-seven years old, Nancy has essentially spent a decade working in journalism.

At twenty-seven years old, she's deep into burnout over the frustration of impeding bureaucracy and she's talking with Robin on the phone every other day about how she's going to come join them in Indy and learn to paint or something instead.

She's talking with Robin on the phone every other day.

And then Robin doesn't pick up one afternoon.

And then she gets a call from Eddie.

Nancy resigns from her job at the Boston Globe the same day, hangs up her credentials, and makes that trip to Indy followed immediately by a trip to Hawkins because two of their friends are missing and in their experience? That can't mean anything good.

It becomes clear within a week that this isn't going to be an easy solve. A week of sleeping in her childhood bedroom and watching Eddie spiral and listening to Dustin and Erica go on tangent after tangent about all their various theories, hiding genuine terror underneath all their bickering.

It becomes clear in a month that this is going to require different skills than any of them have, and Nancy drives her car through the night to end up crashing in a bunker where she learns all the ins and outs of private investigation from a man with about twelve different identities should he need them.

Sam Owens went off the radar years ago.

Anyone who worked at Hawkins Lab all but doesn't exist anymore.

It's a hard fucking thing to solve and all the while Nancy carries those phone calls in her back pocket, because she knows Robin wouldn't just leave, not from the way they spoke with each other.

Robin laughed with Nancy.

She was so eager to share stories about her day that she would leave lengthy messages on Nancy's machine. She was so eager to hear Nancy's own stories that she would stay on the phone while making dinner at risk of burning the house down.

She spoke quiet and earnest into the dead hours of the night, the cresting of a rising sun. She told Nancy about everything they'd do when Nancy finally took a break from the job that was making her miserable and how they would find her something fun. Something just fun, Nance, I swear, we're gonna get you hobbies.

Robin wouldn't just leave.

But if she had to? If she had no other choice? Nancy knows Steve would go with her.

It takes three years in the end, and Nancy's half convinced the two of them got sloppy on purpose, caught back in the Americas with a trip to Mexico and a reused passport, and Nancy is dragging Eddie out of his head and onto a plane before she can fully explain that it's mostly a gut thing.

The trail she's been chasing? Seeing them in it even if they're not there? It's entirely a gut thing, which is why it's only Eddie she drags with her, it's only Murray she allows to know where they're going in case it goes wrong.

It's only her head she lets believe it, because she doesn't think her heart will survive another loss like this.

She dreams sometimes at night, of an amused voice teasing in her ear, tinny over the phone lines but so vastly real.

She lets her head believe it on the plane, on the cab ride, on the bus ride, on the walk down a long rural road out to a little house in the desert with a fence and a mailbox painted yellow.

She lets her head believe it when she watches the twitch of a curtain from inside.

She only lets her head believe it, and that's a lie she only realizes was a lie when Robin Buckley steps out onto the porch with Steve at her shoulder and the world stops.

Nancy Wheeler's knees almost give out from under her when those freckled cheeks plump up with the hint of a smile.

When she gets her arms around her, a hand across shaved down and dark-dyed hair, a word over the top about you're okay, you're okay, you're alive--

When Nancy breathes again, it's with the beat of a heart that knows it's not this easy.

But for a moment? She's dreaming in a lonely Boston apartment all over again.

For a moment, she's making plans.

She really does intend to stick to them this time.

[2haaction]

2ha Fundraising for Palestine Event 🍉 Gotcha4Gaza

Hello! This is the 2ha gotcha for gaza, inspired by the Tumblr MXTX Gotchas! We are aiming to raise money for humanitarian relief in Gaza (Care for Gaza and valid GoFundMe's)! The concept of a gotcha is that creators (both writers and artists) sign up. Then, people donate an assigned amount of money to the valid donation sites, and submit an 2ha prompt that they would like to see drawn/written in exchange for the money spent. The creators will be assigned prompts according to their preferences, and then the prompters will receive their prompt, in order to motivate people to donate!

Our main site is over on Twitter under the same @. We are currently running an interest check for both the creators and prompters as well as for the time period in which the event will be held.

Later, this account will have all necessary links to inform yourself via a carrd (currently in the works!), sign up as a creator, and donate + prompt!

I am kindly asking you to spread this post as far as possible so we can assure making a lot of money, and being able to assign prompts of all kind! Turn on notifications here or follow us on twitter for further information later down the road!

(More under the cut)

If you are unfamiliar with the concept of a gotcha, I can only ask you to check out @/svsssaction on twitter, as they have so far raised the biggest amount of money (over 18,000!!!)! The event will be held some time mid-June to mid-September; so far, it is most likely going to be the last week of June, as according to the Twitter interest check. There will be check-ins wirh creators at one point in case prompts need to be re-assigned, but no hard deadline. No specific skill level will be required, and there are no specific guidelines on the amount of content. Everything can range from sketches to full illustrations, from drabbles to full fics! (Although we would ask for at least a sketch, and a very rough guideline of ~1k words as promtpers spend money on this)

The carrd will become the pinned tweet (together with the current state of the event) as soon as we have finalised it. The carrd will be up before creator assignments open, and creator assignments will likely be open for at least 3 weeks before the start of the event!

Thank you so much for your interest! 🍉🫶

[intothegenshinworld]

Fate’s Destiny ~ Chapter 17 || Finale

You somehow, not being able to explain it, had fallen into the Genshin world you know oh-so-well. You were no new player and had explored most of the nooks and crannies of the world. When you first had woken up in Windrise you wondered; it might be a dream, after all, you were behind your screen usually, and now- here? It made no sense, and the world was keen on keeping it that way.

Warnings: Spoilers for main story.

Word count: 1k+

Auteurs note: Posting all that's left in one go <3

↺ PREVIOUS CHAPTER || MASTERLIST

In the presence of nothing, everything returns as it once was. 

ㅤ

…

With a single blink of your eyes, you find yourself in a serene place. It is a bright, colourful, and peaceful domain; a drastic contrast to the violent void that had consumed you a moment prior. Without a clear journey from your old to your new destination, the sudden shift in your environment is aberrant. Your mind tries to catch up to the facts and you realise you no longer remain in Teyvat, nor are you on Earth—the planet you originally came from. 

When you gaze at your reflection on the watery surface below, your fading appearance is solid again. With the world no longer ridding itself of you, you stop looking impaired. 

Your memories are restored and you remember who you are, and what had happened. 

This is the 794th time you tried to escape the code of ‘Teyvat’. 

You straighten your back and find your strength returning with every second spent in the astral plane. The area you currently reside in is something you would describe as a crossing between ‘your world’ and the world you were previously stuck in. A save file —the place you return to when you fail to meet the right conditions to ‘survive’. 

Despite the weight of ‘dead’ lingering in your mind. There is a feeling of peace now that your memories are restored. You still have no idea how you ended up in Teyvat, but the past ‘runs’ of the ‘game’ fill in the blanks. 

The first time you had awoken in Teyvat, you had seemingly come out of nowhere. Yet, your sudden appearance would not be your downfall. Instead, it consistently appears to be your interaction with the world that causes it to ‘break down’. 

During your 1st time in Teyvat, you had done many things different than this time. You were naive and content to take on the name of ‘Creator’ without hesitation, taking things as a joke and not feeling any danger despite the ‘code’ detecting you as a virus. Your existence contradicted how the ‘story’ was written; and so it tried to erase you. Yet, your impact had gotten too big and it could only end with the collapse of the Teyvat. 

Que, your second try. This time, once you had escaped the astral plane to try again, you could still remember your family and friends, anything from your past world, as could you recall the events of the past world. Trying to change your previous choices, you went to Mondstadt, only to ruin the ‘story’ by explaining that you are from a different world. Your impact changed the code again, and so you, including all you had influenced, were bound to be destroyed.

Many variations of your efforts to escape this world have gone in vain. 

Since you are the only one to remember the ‘before’ and the ‘truth’, you can’t ask for any help or clues. Trial and error got you to a certain level of experience, but at some point, you stopped getting information and were lost without a way to survive.

This evolved into a feeling of desolation. 

If all your actions end with the same ‘ending’, do you have a choice in the first place? Perhaps certain things are set in stone; maybe it is your destiny to relive this story over and over.

However, things took a positive turn when you met Dainsleif. 

At the beginning of your run-ins, he could not remember you. It appeared that he, too, was limited to the code. Yet, he always found you, again and again until something changed. 

As the deaths and rebirths of ‘Teyvat’ increased, he got closer to ‘the truth’. 

One day, you woke up in the field of Windrise with him by your side. He knelt beside your resting body and spoke your name when you woke up. 

Dainsleif remembered , and so you tried to uncover the truth together.

The memories of your previous world had proven to be useful after this. They explained how the world worked and that, at its core, it remained a game. Everyone’s actions and fate were predestined by the code that had written ‘life’ into the world, and anything that defied it was seen as an error. 

Your fading appearance and the loss of memory started to make sense once you uncovered this truth. Continuous exposure to the code had made you fragile. Not only were you corrupting the code, Teyvat was corrupting you. You were crossing the line between ‘human’ and ‘code’, and once you became one with the game, you would no longer have access to the ‘savefile’ and die once the code had exterminated its error. 

Somewhere after the 680th time, you had become a walking amnesiac, and no matter how many times Dainsleif tried to explain the workings of the world to you; you would end up forgetting it. The only times you were able to speak with him as you are now were in the first few system hours in the game. 

Dainsleif will wait at the tree in Windrise and update you. You would decide a new strategy and he would lead you as best as he could. 

At your 700th try, you offered your life for the world that was not yours. Dainsleif had regretfully promised to take you out before you could impact the code. 

It did not work. Even if he got rid of you, he was still impacted.

In the last timeline, you started with even fewer memories. Your mind held on to the few fragile memories that made you ‘you’. 

Your name, your age… but things like your friends and family became a distant thought and you know you will lose those memories again once you leave the ‘savefile’.

And herein lies the ultimatum.

ㅤ

…

ㅤ

At the sound of bricks being stacked against one another, a familiar white door materialises behind you. Its imposing presence casts a solemn shadow over the otherwise serene landscape. Every time you return to the familiar gate, a weighty decision is put into your hands. Sometimes it feels like the door itself holds the key to your fate.

Your eyes follow the familiar shapes of intricate carvings on the framing. 

Memories, vivid and fleeting, flood your mind like waves of a restless current. 

You’re at the entrance of the game. 

ㅤ

ㅤ

DO YOU WANT TO TRY AGAIN? 

ㅤㅤ[ YES ]             [ NO ]

If you liked this chapter and think I deserve a comment, please leave one behind! I appreciate it a lot and it'll make me more motivated to write in the future ♡

© intothegenshinworld. Do not copy, repost, translate or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thanks for reading.

[ink-n-shadow]

Alright...hear me out. Ghost with a fem!reader that wakes him up with a blow job, and he later returns the favor by waking her up by either eating her out or very gently fucking her awake. I am a FERAL for consenting somno.

this, THIS is what i needed to write about😌

WAKE-UP SEX

𝜗𝜚 the one where you wake simon up with a surprise and he returns the favor

𝜗𝜚 pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), consensual somnophilia (m! and f!receiving), oral (m!receiving, mentions of f!receiving), slight dirty talk? (basically just simon having a way with words), not proofread 𝜗𝜚 note: pt. 2 can be found here ⤳ link

you wouldn’t even know how this whole thing started with simon. you would both probably be a bit tipsy, trying to celebrate his most recent mission with a few sips (an entire bottle) of wine at home.

you would be sitting in simon’s lap, thighs hooked on either side of his hips and leaning back against the hands he was running along your spine. you weren’t even sure you heard him right at first, which made your eyebrows furrow a bit as you met his gaze.

“you want me to what?”

simon rarely got sheepish or embarrassed, but when it came to sex, he was typically a bit more reserved.

“c’mon…don’t make me say it again, sweetheart. that’s fuckin’ cruel to do to a man.” he joked quietly, the touch of his hands on your back becoming a bit firmer as he pulled you closer. “just wanted to give you somethin’ to think about, lovie. i think it’d be bloody sexy to wake up with my cock halfway down your throat."

simon never mentioned it again. but you remembered, letting the idea hang in the back of your mind for weeks. the more you thought about it, the more it excited you. so when you woke up early one morning with simon still fast asleep next you, you knew that it was the perfect time.

you slowly slipped down the bed, nestling yourself under the blankets and between simon's slightly opened thighs. you gently tugged down the hem of his briefs until you could fish his semi-hard cock from its confines, unable to hold back the soft hum that fell from your lips as you felt its heaviness in your palm.

it didn’t even matter that the blanket over your head concealed simon’s peaceful face—all you could focus on was licking a long stripe along the underside of his cock, tongue flicking against the soft pink tip and fingers squeezing along the base. the heady taste of simon bled out on your tongue, making your eyes slowly flutter closed as you closed your lips around him and gave him a gentle suck.

simon’s legs twitched at the sudden stimulation, his brain slow to catch up and stir out of his tired stupor. “mmm…what’re you—oh christ.” his hand found the back of your head beneath the blanket, his other making quick work to push the fabric away from your face and letting his eyes feast on the sight in front of him. “jesus, sweetheart. m’not—fuck, not gonna last long with your throat squeezin’ me like that.”

simon was still half-asleep, his movements slow and sluggish as he shifted further up on the pillows to get a better look at you sucking him off. one hand remained on the back of your head, not as a guide but simply to touch you, the other resting along your opened jaw and fingers brushing at the corner of your stretched lips. he was right—he didn’t last long. it took only a few more languid dips of simon’s cock into the back of your throat before he spilled his cum into your eager mouth with a soft hiss and whimper of your name.

what you didn’t expect to happen after that morning was for simon to return the favor.

you had fallen asleep on the couch one afternoon, legs splayed open and head nestled against the armrest as you slept. it was a blazing afternoon, one so hot that you were only wearing a pair of silk shorts and a tank top—all of which exposed too much and not enough all at once.

simon was walking through the door, arms loaded with his bag of gear and dirty laundry he’d collected while away at base. his eyes caught on your figure immediately, and it took everything in him not to drop the items in his grip. you looked so peaceful as you slept, but simon couldn’t care less about that.

once he had placed this things into a neat pile by the door, simon made his way over to the living room and sunk down on his knees in front of your sleeping form. he didn’t even bother pulling your shorts off of your hips, afraid the movement would stir you from sleep too quickly—so he settled for pressing heated kisses directly along your clothed core, a soft groan leaking from his lips as one arm curled around the thigh propped up against the back of the couch and tugged you closer to his waiting mouth.

a smirk flitted on simon’s lips as your sleeping body reacted perfectly to him, your legs falling open a bit more as you shifted your hips up in your sleep. he continued pressing those kisses along your covered slit until a breathy whine fell from your mouth. he peeked one eye up to notice your tired eyes fluttering open, a soft ‘what’re you doing, si?’ falling from you in a panted breath.

“remember last week? woke up cummin’ down that pretty little throat of yours.” simon mumbled into the heated skin of your thigh as he sunk his teeth into your flesh, pulling away with a lewd pop. his hand dragged up your body, palm pushing against your balmy skin from the top of your cunt until his fingers were splayed on your sternum. “just returnin’ the favor, sweetheart. relax f’me, baby—yeah, that’s it. go back to sleep and let my tongue do all the work, m’kay?”

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[akutasoda]

Congrats on reaching 1k, you totally deserve it. Also, i was wondering if you could do a kunikida from bungo stray dogs x female reader fluffy sorta fic?

coffee with sugar

synopsis - maybe kunikida needs a bit more sweetness in his life

includes - kunikida ft the agency

warnings - fem!reader, fluff, absolute cringe towards the end, wc - 2k

a/n: hehe thank you so much!

'thank you again for allowing me a part time here' you gave the man a smile as he welcomed you into the small café uzunaki, he reciprocated before responding 'it's no problem, it may not be the busiest place but help is appreciated'. truth be told, you moved to yokohama a few days ago and you were in the middle of job hunting here, so you decided to earn atleast some income bt working at a local café. it was only meant to be a part time job to tide you over until you could find somewhere else so you assumed that the quaint café would offer a nice way to pay your bills.

the owner gave you a quick tour of the café before showing you the ins and outs of how to make some popular drinks. 'like i said, we don't really have many customers so we only have one other waitress but the customers we do have are regulars' you finished the latte he instructed you to try making and slided it over to him and enquiring 'who are the regulars?', he took a quick sip before nodding in approval and adding 'the local agency, an interesting bunch that come here practically every day' he paused and pointed to a small post it on the counter 'may want to get familiar with those orders'. you nodded before taking a quick look.

you finished your first day by practicing making a variety of the drinks and plating of food while the owner gave you hints and tips. the café didn't actually open that day, so you appreciated having the time to learn in peace - the other waitress visited for a while to meet her new coworker and even helped you learn some trickier drinks to brew. it really seemed like the perfect way to open up your new life in yokohama.

the next day was your first proper shift, it was up until lunch time and then you offered a few hours toward the closing shift. a simple day that made you rather glad you landed this job. the owner was there to open up the shop and soon retreated elsewhere when he made sure you were okay with everything. a couple of early morning workers stopped by and ordered basic coffee's so your real challenge was when an eccentric ravenette burst through the doors followed by a decent sized group. there was the ravenette, a tall brunette, a taller blonde and a ginger haired boy with a black haired girl hanging off his arm - you didn't quite know what to expect with them but you vaguely remember some of them from descriptions about the agency members.

as soon as they sat down in a booth you picked up your small notepad and walked over to the table, almost immediately the brunette spoke up 'i didn't know the old man hired a new waitress?' he stared at you for a second before complaining 'what? don't kick me' he stared down the blonde opposite him and before either of them could speakthe ginger haired boy caught your attention 'you are new aren't you? don't mind them-' he was cut off with the ravenette's declaration for his usual, extra sweet, and the blonde sighed before adding 'we will all have our usual please'. you simply nodded and went to search for the post it on the counter to look for their orders, the only issue was that you didn't know any of their names so you didn't really know what order went with who.

well you could figure out the eccentric raventte easily as he wanted it extra sweet and you could take an effective guess that the blonde man would want the order that simply read 'black coffee' but the other three were a bit difficult. you eventually managed to guess that the two part order belonged to the duo and had managed to overhear the name 'dazai' while making the orders and assumed that would be the brunette. now you just had to finish making the orders.

if kunikida didn't have half the patience he did, he reckoned he would have jumped across the table and beat dazai senseless already. he knew his coworker was a bit of a slacker and easily would be distracted with the idea of asking a woman to perform 'double-suicide' with him but today was just not the day to deal with him. kunikida could take a guess that it didn't help that you were new, he didn't want you to quit your job because dazai was an idiot - the whole reason they were here was to talk about the tiger case but dazai really couldn't keep his focus.

your cheery voice broke him out of his thoughts and he thanked you for dealing with them, you smiled back and went to clear up the empty cups left by the previous patron. eventually they managed to finalise a plan and decided to report back to the office to set out, unfortunately both dazai and ranpo seemed to forgets you were a new waitress and left as usual expecting you to immediately add it to their tab. kunikida sighed and noticed how you looked slightly panicked taht they just left so he let tanizaki and naomi go ahead and he walked over to you behind the counter.

'the agency has a tab set up, please exuse their rude behaviour' he explained and you slowly remembered the owner explaining something about that so you went to check. kunikida glanced over and asked out of pure concern 'do you know how to access it?' you smiled and responded 'i remember being told how, give me a second and i'll remember'. kunikida waited until you managed to add to their tab and informed you that he'd send them back down to apologise and you only stiffled a laugh before adding 'no need, i should've remembered who you guys were'.

you left during lunch and greeted the other waitress when she came in as you left, you greeted her again when you joined her for the closing shift. the last customer was a dark haired woman, she spotted you when you came in and introduced herself as yosano - one of the other agency members. she told you how she heard about the morning mishap and told you that you might have to get used to them behaving like that, then she left and informed you that she'd be the unfortunate recipient of their presnce soon.

your next shift was another early one, this time your first customers where the same brunette you know knew for sure was dazai, the duo which you again now knew as tanizaki and naomi, kunikida and a new white haired boy. you were lucky enough that the other waitress was there with you this time and she offered to take the table - you looked away to clean out a few cups and by the time you looked back kunikida had smacked dazai over the head and the other waitress walked away from dazai. she smiled at you before telling you that you should ignore anything dazai said to you. you stared at her with confusion.

within the first couple of weeks you had grown quite accustomed to working at the café - and unfortunately came to learn what the other waitress warned you about with dazai. the agency members all had their unique quirks and you didn't know if you should be proud that you knew their orders off by heart, over patrons were also equally nice to talk to but the agency were the most common guest. you had almost forgotten completely about your attempts to find another job and most of the messages you got back from places offering interviews were forgotten - the café was a job that you even considered working full time sometimes.

if you had to pick a favourite agency member, you'd probably have to say kunikida. from day one, he had helped you with the slight inconveniences some of the agnecy members gave you when they visited - mainly dazai and ranpo and sometimes kenji but that was when he tried bringing one of his cows into the café. kunikida was also quite the good listener and talker, it felt unprofessional at first when you starrted telling him about how you ended up in yokohama but he did ask you how you landed the job and seemed to show genuine interest. you also enjoyed listening to him talk about some of the agency's stories while you closed up for the night.

kunikida always seemed to visit later at night or early in the morning. if it was early in the morning he would be accompanied by a few agency members and he would order a black coffee, if it was before closing he would sit on the chairs at the counter and have - depending on his day - either another black coffee or simply a glass of water. kunikida didn't really notice how much he visited the café during your shifts until dazai pointed it out to him obnoxiously loud in the café while you were within hearing distance, you either pretended not to hear or were too engrossed in a task to notice.

although after dazai pointed it out, kunikida really couldn't help but read his book of ideals and think about you. sure you didn't cross of all the requirements for his ideal lover but this was the first time he felt like he could make a few exceptions. maybe it was the fact that you were so hardworking that helped attract him to you initially and maybe it was your personality that kept him longing for another interaction. he would always ask you about your plans for the future and whenever you told him you were still looking for a job it pained him for some reason but for the time being you always assured him you had no plans on leaving soon.

it got so painstakingly obvious to over members of the agency that kunikida was in fact pining for you, that yosano told him to pack his ideals to the side and ask you out before it was too late. the only issue was that kunikida wasn't sure on how to go about it and he could only think of one way, one really cringey way that was going to be something yosano and dazai would forever tease him with.

you watched kunikida enter through the café's door and you smiled at him before taking a drink to another customer, you swiftly returned to behind the counter and said 'what will it be today hm? let me guess a coffee?' he let a small smile crack his face before he nodded and hesitantly added 'yeah, but it'd like it with a few sugars today'

'what gives huh?' you questioned and almost liked he'd rehearsed this exact scenario he answered immediately 'i just reckon it's time to add something sweeter to my life'. you would normally brush this off but he was sttaring at you so intently that you, felt a bit confused, you also swore you saw a faint blush on his face. 'what do you mean kunikida?' he let out a long sigh before looking back at you directly 'you don't mean..' you trailed off slightly before taking a full understanding of the situation. you smiled and responded confidently 'well maybe i should try adding a handsome blonde man into my life' you laughed as he deadpanned at you. eventually he started looking a bit more hopeful

'does this mean-'

'if you want it be kuni, because i know i want us to be'

akutasoda's 1k event

[how-serene]

From The Stars

Pairing - Abner Krill x Neutral!Reader

Summary - A strange terror befalls your beloved town Crescent Cove, one you aren't sure you'll survive.

Word Count - 1k+

Warnings - killer klowns crossover, fluff, slight angst, no use of y/n, a little goofy in some parts, established relationship, set in the 80s

A/N - please enjoy this incredibly stupid fucking idea I had that proceeded to haunt me for about a month.

August, 1988

The aromatic smell of hotdogs, and buttered popcorn wafted into your nose. Despite the intoxicating bouquet of savory food, only a quarter of the park was filled. Friday nights at Crescent Cove’s local drive-in theater were usually packed, and swarming with vehicles. However, for the past year crowds were beginning to thin. What was once a hot spot for rowdy teenagers and awkward first dates, had slowly dwindled and was now home to outside critters and the occasional couple. 

“I think this is the worst turnout they’ve had so far,” you said, scanning the mostly deserted parking lot. A few cars were spaced out amongst the dried grass, crushing dead daisies and dandelions beneath their tires. You spotted an elderly couple, sitting in the front seat of a turquoise Chevrolet Bel Air. 

“Is it usually busier than this?” Abner asked, from beside you. His shoulder bumped against yours, as you two sat on one of the rickety wooden benches surrounding the screen. 

“When I worked here during high school, the place was always crawling with people on the weekends,” you explained, suddenly feeling melancholic. Memories of being a child, weaving through the cars to rush to the snack bar washed over you. At the time, the field seemed so vast as the line of cars stretched on  forever. The lawn was more vibrant, and green than what it was now. You blinked at the prickly sensation of tears in the corners of your eyes. 

“What is it?” Abner asked, turning to face you.

You took a deep breath. “I just remember when my friends and I used to drive out here, after school. My friend, Janet, at the time had this hideous orange pick-up truck. We used to pile blankets in the back and watch Alfred Hithcock’s Psycho for the dozenth time.” 

Abner warmly smiled at the memory, even though it didn’t belong to him. Sometimes he was reminded that you lived an entire life before you two met, one that widely differentiated from his. Your lives did not mirror each other, and although there was a loneliness in that, he was grateful for it too. 

 “It’s weird having so many memories tied to this place, only to watch it slowly die out.” You contemplated, leaning into Abner’s side. He smelled of mint, and rosemary.

Abner nudged his nose against the side of your head, placing a faint kiss on your temple. 

You stared up at the screen. A black and white flick you couldn’t recall the name of played against the blank canvas. Overhead, August’s night sky enveloped the town as a dusting of stars blinked down at you two. Despite the false hope blooming in your chest, those memories were a lifetime ago and should remain as nothing more than what they are. A part of the past. “Drive-ins have been shutting down since the mid eighties,” you said, shrugging. “I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised.”

Abner hummed, glancing up at the screen as well. The last remnants of August were officially dying out, as a cool breeze ruffled the back of his hair. Soon, everyone would be mourning the summer season as it slowly broke away into autumn. He would have to say farewell to the long humid nights, where it felt like the world stretched on endlessly. When the slow descent of a drowsy setting sun meant there was more time in a day, to not worry so much. 

Abner felt his throat lodge, as another gust of wind passed. 

When a sudden shrill scream pierced the air, cutting through the fuzzy audio playing through the speakers. 

“Christ, what was that?” You whipped around, looking over your shoulder. Several other heads turned, peering through their car windows out at the dimly lit field. There was nothing but dark shrubbery and trees beyond the chain-link fence that surrounded the park. 

You shifted closer to Abner, keeping an eye trained on the border of the fence. His hand reached for yours, interlocking your fingers together in a tight grip. You noticed your own hands were trembling. 

“Could be someone messing around,” he said, squeezing your hand. Whether for his own reassurance or yours, you couldn’t tell. 

Suddenly a woman stumbled out from the dark abyss of trees. A tangled mess of bleached hair fell around her striking pale face. Even from a distance, her wild frantic eyes immediately sent the hairs to rise on the nape of your neck. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks, as she frantically sprinted towards the cars. 

Just a few feet behind her, was a…

“Is that a fucking clown?”

Abner squinted, staring at the massive figure, “Not a normal looking one.” 

“Please, help me!” The woman pleaded, slamming her hands against the back windshield of the elderly couple's car. They stared at her like a deer in the headlights.

As the clown approached, you began to see what Abner meant. Its tall round body loomed over the girl, and the hoods of the cars. The thing wore a bright blue patterned jumpsuit, and had tufts of lime green hair sprouting from its cone shaped head. 

“My god,” you muttered, going wide eyed. 

Its large, wide red mouth was split into a smile, as if someone had taken a razor blade to the sides of its face. In its enormous gloved hands was a ray-like weapon – it resembled something out of a science fiction movie – with red spots painted over its bulb-like body. 

You didn’t even have time to process what happened next, before Abner was yanking you down to the floor. The terrorized screams of the others drowned out the music of the movie. You peered through the gaps of the bench, watching in horror as a beam shot out from the oddly shaped gun, mummifying the woman in a suffocating, pink cocoon. 

“What is that stuff?” Abner whispered, unable to peel his gaze away from the bizarre sight. 

People spilled out of their cars, stumbling their way through the parking lot. Their cries drilled into your head, echoing in the corners of your mind. The clown swiftly turned, aiming its weapon at another innocent victim. Before you could think to do anything, their pleas for help were swiftly silenced. 

“There’s more of them,” Abner noted, pointing toward the fence. 

Two more clowns suddenly appeared, stepping out from the inky blackness of the woods. They were different from one another, one short and round, and the other tall and thin. In an array of brightly colored jumpsuits that was nauseating to look at. They both wore the same grotesque smile, permanently stretched on their faces. 

“Shit, shit,” you muttered, quietly panicking to yourself. 

“Maybe we can make a break for the entrance,” Abner said, looking toward you. 

You shook your head, “My car is parked near the back, if we make it we should be fine.” 

“If?”

“Poor choice of words, sorry.” 

His wide eyes bore into yours, a frown pulled on his thin pink lips. You sighed, brushing back his black hair that hung over his eyes – he had been growing it out lately. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you explained, softly smiling at him. You grasped his hand, ensuring a tight grip before taking a deep breath. 

Abner and you remained hand in hand, as you made a dash for your car parked at the end of the row. Its silver body stood out like a star in the night sky, so close it was almost touchable yet so far all at once. From the corner of your eye, you spotted a young man fall to the ground, before becoming encased in the cotton-like substance. 

It’s almost like cotton candy. 

You and Abner weaved through the cars, ducking behind the doors to avoid the eyes of the clowns. 

“Almost there,” you whispered, glancing back at him. Abner kept his eyes trained to the ground, focusing on the heels of your shoes. His tenacious grip in yours was beginning to hurt. 

You waited, as people rushed past you, their sobs echoing in the open field.

“Okay, go-

You pulled Abner with you, momentarily leaving your space of cover. A spike of hope pulsed through you, the car was so close…

When one of the clown’s stepped in front of you, blocking your view. Its hair resembled a blazing ball of fire, as its plump pink lips snarled down at you. Its saturated pink suit stood out like a stain against the backdrop of the night. You felt Abner tense up behind you, his hands coming to grasp at the back of your jacket. It towered over you, the deep corners of its mouth somehow stretching, widening into an even more sinister smile. The ray was aimed directly at you, its bulb beginning to glow as the weapon whirred to life. 

You sucked in a breath, preparing for the thing to envelope you in its fluffy-pink consistency. When suddenly you were pushed, the soft grass cushioning your fall. Abner laid on top of you, having knocked you both out of the way. The clown made a series of frustrated noises – ones you couldn’t comprehend – as it swung around to face you two again. You swiftly got up, dragging Abner up by his arm with you. Without another thought, you began to run, hightailing it in the opposite direction. 

“What about the car!”

“Screw the car right now, we can make it back to town through the woods.” 

Abner’s feet ran alongside yours, his soft pants ensuring he was there beside you. Dirt and grass began flying by your heads, as the clown haphazardly aimed and shot at you two. 

Lord, I’ll be so good and kind if you get me out of this. 

You grabbed at Abner’s hand again, pulling him past the chain-link fence. The screams of the civilians grew more faint as the woods swallowed you up. Low-lying branches scraped at your cheek, as the overwhelming darkness made it difficult to see. You could feel them snagging at your clothes, trying to pull you back. The disorienting buzz of insects and small animals filled your head – causing you to not notice a hand slipping from yours. 

“Just a little farther,” you muttered, pushing through the suffocating night. Your skin stung, as the woods fought against you, their branches leaving behind marks. It felt as if your lungs were on fire, as the path before you seemed to stretch on forever. You pushed yourself forward, wanting to put as much distance between you and the drive-in. Up-ahead, headlights cut through the trees, illuminating your way for a split second. 

It must be the road. 

You broke out into a grin, stumbling your way through until you stood at the edge of a poorly paved road. Dim streetlamps shined down on you, lulling you into a sense of safety. The sounds of cries and mayhem were entirely gone, as if they weren’t there in the first place. As if the whole night could be chalked up to nothing more than a bad nightmare. You were panting, hunched forward as you gathered yourself. It was serenely quiet. 

“Abner, are you okay?”

There was no answer.

You whipped around, to find nothing but the woods shadow bending over you. 

And a sudden silence that now rang in your ears. 

[asunsetgrace16]

✧ 𝗖𝗨𝗧𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦⎥𝗕𝗖92

Pairing: Brandt Clarke x fem!reader

Summary: It is a good thing that Canadians find California warm enough for shorts and swimsuits for the majority of the year because Brandt likes nothing better than to come home to find you in a bikini top and cutoff shorts.

Warnings: none. Just a flirty, hopelessly in love Brandt Clarke

Notes: Headcanon: "thanks the L.A. weather for getting to see you in bikini tops and shorts for most of the year"

masterlist⎥ navigation

Word Count: 1k

70 degrees and sunny in the middle of March. A far cry from growing up in Northern Ontario. Y/N and Ines Kopitar, who has taken Y/N under her wing as Brandt gets more and more games with the Kings, are lounging by the pool at Ines’ house. 

“God, I can’t believe it is this nice out. I keep expecting a blizzard any time. I can definitely get used to this.” Y/N says, eyes shaded by sunglasses.

“Yeah, I’d imagine Northern Ontario is much colder this time of year.” Ines replies, a smile gracing her face. 

“But I am not one to complain.” They clink their glasses of margarita, share a laugh, and the conversation flows on. Before long, however, Y/N gets a text from Brandt, saying that they are on their way back from practice.

“The boys are on their way back.” She announces. Ines checks her watch.

“It is that time. You two will stay for supper?” She asks. They gather their towels and books, making their way inside.

“Of course. What were you planning?”

“I was thinking fish tacos, something light. The boys can snack on something before if they need.”

“I can make a dip, if you like. They can bend the nutrition plan rules a little.” Y/N offers, pushing her sunglasses up on her head as they step inside.

“That would be great, actually. I’ve got the recipe down pat, so I can get it going fast. We should be ready to eat an hour after the boys get back.” Ines directs Y/N to the fridge, and they start gathering all the ingredients and supplies to make dinner. Y/N pulls out a saucepan and tosses thinly sliced onions in with butter to caramelize. Ines pulls mangoes, red onion, jalapenos, cilantro, lime juice, and red pepper to make a salsa. While the onions cook down, Y/N blends an avocado, some jalapeno, and lime to make a sauce, before mixing together the base for the dip. The fish is battered and frying when the Anze calls out their arrival.

“In, we’re home. It smells fantastic in here.” He and Brandt stop short in the doorway. They wear identical looks on their faces, as both Y/N and Ines simply pulled on a pair of cutoff denim shorts after the afternoon in the sun, leaving their bikini tops on. He swings around to the stove and captures Ines for a kiss, “What creation are you making tonight?”

“Fish tacos and Y/N is making a dip.” Ines answers, flipping a piece of fish.

Brandt goes over to Y/N, mimicking Anze. He kisses her neck. With warm hands on her hips he says in his ever playful manner, “You look even better than the food does, baby. Is that french onion dip?”

Y/N laughs, her head is back resting on his shoulder and teases, “Yes it is. Not even five minutes and you are already thinking about food?”

“Hey, you can’t blame a guy, no one makes it better than you do.” Brandt swipes some of the dip, “Besides,” he whispers in Y/N’s ear, “It would be rude to leave early, as much as I want to.”

A shiver runs down her spine at the silent promise. She swats him with the towel draped over her shoulder and sets him and Anze to making the mango salsa for the tacos. Somewhere, Brandt procures a speaker and starts a random playlist playing. A playful energy fills the kitchen, and a towel war breaks out. The group eats standing around the kitchen island, the conversation never ceasing. As the saying goes, many hands make light work as the dishes are washed and put away, leftovers tucked safely in the fridge for tomorrow’s lunch. 

Anze lights a fire outside when the sun begins its descent. They move outside with hoodies on and quilts bundled in their arms. Almost as an afterthought, Anze sprints back inside and grabs marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers to make s’mores. Both Y/N and Ines crack a  yawn. The night is dark and a chill is settling in before Brandt and Y/N notice the time. 

“I guess it’s time to head out.” Brandt says, “Nice that we have an off-day tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’s later than I thought. Thank you for dinner, as always. And the company. It was wonderful.” Y/N follows up, folding her borrowed blanket as she stands. Stretching, she yawns once again. 

“Oh any time. We like you guys. You restore some youthful energy.” Anze jokes.

“You’re not that old yet. You can still skate circles around half the league.” Brandt comments as they make their way inside. Goodbyes are said and Brandt’s hockey bag is loaded into the back of their vehicle. The late hour makes the drive home faster than usual. Y/N dozes off not long after buckling up. The moonlight streaming through the window throws shadows over her face, silvery highlights make her look so peaceful. It makes Brandt’s breath catch in his throat. He is so in love it hurts.

“C’mon sweetheart, we’re home.” Brandt murmurs, reaching over Y/N to unbuckle her seatbelt. She climbs out of the car and leans into him. The walk to their apartment is short.

“I think I could fall asleep standing up at this point,” She mumbles, face tucked into his shoulder as the door to their apartment is unlocked.

“Me too. I vote we get ready for bed as fast as we can, and then we can just fall into bed.”

Sounds like a plan.” They move quickly through their nighttime routines. Brushing teeth, washing faces, grabbing pajamas. He flicks off the big light and turns on the bedside lamps. Y/N tosses her hoodie out the open bathroom door and changes into more comfortable shorts. Denim is cute, but not all that comfortable to sleep in and certainly not her choice of sleepwear.

“Babe, can you come untie me? There’s a knot now and I can’t quite get it undone.” Y/N calls. He comes back into the bathroom and gets the knot out of her bikini top.

“You’ve got some tan lines, baby.” He kisses her shoulder.

“Hmmm. You can appreciate them tomorrow.”

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

People in Reddit, (because of course they are) seen to think California is this prosperous utopia that makes so much money and people there just have it made. Except people were moving away in droves because of cost of living for a while and then because of lack of freedom after that.

Then I get greeted with "Nuh uh! They've had net positive people moving there". Sure maybe recently but during and right after covid people fled because of the tyrant state California was acting like. Not too mention the shutdowns on top of cutting off work from so many people while the Governor went out to party with his friends.

California might make a lot of money but it's because they SPEND a lot. And I can explain. California has some is the highest tax rates in the US. And add freakishly high rent and costs there and it's near impossible to live there especially in the big cities. So why are they supposedly so "prosperous". Easy. If a state was to charge you 40% in state taxes. Gas prices are 7$ and you rent is 5k or more a month "income" for the state is going to look insane.

Meanwhile if you have a state that charges no state taxes, costs 3$ in gas and rent costs 1k a month the state will seemingly be less "prosperous". Except that concept should more or less look at conditions of living. And in California the place with the best net positive living conditions for an AVERAGE resident are all red area. Or light purple leaning red. Meanwhile if you're in blue areas you've got streets covered in shit, homeless people, and rampant crime and car break-ins. Sounds SUPER "prosperous" to me. So prosperous in fact the state wanted to charge residents for 10 years after they left the state.

Why? Because no matter how much they are making they aren't making enough. If you compare their GDP against how much they keep spending it's pretty bleak. Never you mind the impropriety in their local governments. Specifically L.A. and SF. Who "misplaced" millions a year that's supposedly supposed to go to the homeless. And other supposed "welfare". Fact is the sheer amount of people who I've talked to that left because they could not afford to live there. It's been quite a few. Income does not equal prosperity. And the fact Cali has had to be bailed out a number of times shows it can't sustain itself. Though the bailouts were not all extravagant. Most ended up being subsidies if I recall correctly. (Though it's been a while since I read up on it).

People dick suck Democrat policies so hard they need to present California as this bastion of perfection. It's not. And GDP doesn't make a place better. Especially not with tax rates as high as the have them. ON TOP OF federal taxes and living costs being that stupid.

Record high of 6.43. FOR UNLEADED!

And then this bullshit.

And a dollar for gas makes a lot of difference

So if it gas wad 3.40 even, 20$ would get you 5.8 gallons. At 4.80? 4.1 gallons. That amount MAKES A DIFFERENCE especially to those not making a lot of money a year. Then Cali mandates a $20/hr min wage for fast for (except Panera bread because a high level executive made a charitable donation to his campaign) 10k people lost our are projected to lose jobs. "Well that's the greedy companies-" I'm going to stop you right there. No it's not companies fault. It's the fault of California government. Because guess what? For those people that will be making more California gets a bigger cut of your money. Oh and guess what? Because of that you're in a higher tax bracket in both your state AND federally. California is mandating you get robbed blind.

Look. No state is perfect. But to pretend California is such a great place because a lot of companies had their head offices there and state taxes are absurd? Isn't a win. And frankly it makes your look stupid. Because it's a pretty nuanced thing. And it completely flies over most of your heads. Because if they were so well of WHY would they even consider an exit tax? Why would their tax rates be so damn high? Oh right because the state is lining it's own pockets while pretending they are the richest place on earth. And all because "the weather is nice". Blow me. Several states have really nice weather. California just sets itself on fire from time to time because they dissolved their foresty departments so they can blame global warming for everything.