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jokeringcutio · 4 months

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Stepdad!William Afton x Reader "Pregnant" Mature/Drabble [1]

FNAF | William Afton (stepdad!) x (f) Reader | MATURE Summary: Imagine: Your mom is pregnant and tells you the 'joyful' news. She doesn't know you carry a child from your stepdad as well. Only, you are not allowed to share the news with anyone. AN: These drabbles are in no particular order and not necessarily related. But they are all Stepdad!WilliamAfton x !StepdaughterReader Universe. This could follow up on Christmas Present.

Warnings: talk about dub-con/taboo relationship, keeping it a secret, angst, drama, William being mean.

"Come join us at the table, dear," your mom called out to you, her voice brimming with excitement. You reluctantly took a seat, forcing a smile onto your face as she presented a sonogram in front of you. William, your stepdad, stood nearby, his involvement in all this clear by the proud look on his face.

The sight of the sonogram made your stomach churn. No, all but that, you silently pleaded. But the picture was still there. No lie in it.

An unborn child, a baby, already very much formed, sucking its thumb, stared back at you. She wasn’t just pregnant, she must have been for a while. It explained why she started to eat more and had gained weight. You should have noticed. Fighting back the nausea threatening to overwhelm you, you continued to feign happiness for your mom and stepdad's sake.

"Can you believe it?" your mom gushed. "You're finally going to have a sibling! I've wanted to give you a brother or sister for so long, but I never had the chance. And now that I'm getting older, I thought it might be too late. But it's like a Christmas miracle!" She laughed, lost in her joy. "I swear it must have happened on Christmas Eve."

You tried to stomach the details, politely listening while feeling sick to your core. Your eyes searched William's face for any sign of guilt, but he only looked back at you impassively, raising his fingers to his lips in a hushing gesture. Christmas Eve. A miracle indeed, you thought. You remembered the evening well, how William came to your room before going back to your mother. You forced another smile, wishing the conversation could end.

"Mom, Dad, I'm really happy for you both," you managed to choke out, hoping your words sounded genuine. And you would have been, if not for your stepdad constantly putting his cock inside of you behind your mom’s back. You felt guilty and dirty and quite frankly, you felt like a cheap toy to him. Yet, you had grown to love his touches. You craved him.

William Afton had become a need in your life.

And so you would have been happy for your mom if she had married any other man than your stepfather.

"Congratulations, Mom," you whispered, wrapping your arms around her in a tight embrace. You could tell she appreciated the gesture, and for a moment you thought you could fake your way through this. William be damned. He couldn’t break the bond between mother and daughter. Not with his manipulative games, not with his secrets, and not with his control over you. But then, the traitorous nauseating churn in your stomach grew stronger as she clung to you, her joy infectious yet painful for you to witness.

"Thank you, sweetie," she said, pulling back and beaming at you. Your vision blurred, the nausea intensifying until it was unbearable. "I'm just so –"

"Excuse me," you interrupted, clamping a hand over your mouth as you bolted from the table, but it was too late. The contents of your stomach spilled out, splattering across the table in a vile mess.

"Are you okay?" your mom asked, concern etched into her face. "You've been unwell a lot recently."

"Sorry, I'm fine," you lied once the heaving finally stopped, cheeks burning with shame as you grabbed tissues from the counter and started cleaning up the mess. You couldn't let her know the truth. William would kill you if you told her.

"Maybe you should see a doctor soon," your mom suggested, glancing at William for support. "Don't you think that's a good idea?"

He nodded, his arms crossed and expression stoic. "Yes, it might be best."

"Thanks for worrying, Mom," you mumbled, your heart thudding in your chest as you wiped away the last traces of vomit. "I promise I'll make an appointment."

"Good," she said, relief flickering in her eyes. "I just want you to be healthy and happy."

"Me too," you whispered, forcing a smile.

With a final swipe, you finished cleaning your mess and rushed past William to throw the dirty tissues in the trash. "Congratulations on becoming a dad again," you said, trying to sound sincere.

"Thank you," he responded with a nasty grin, his voice dripping with malice. "I've always wanted more kids."

His words twisted like a knife in your gut as you retreated to the living room. Your mom beckoned William over, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Come sit with me, let's think of names for our little miracle."

You watched them for a little while, your heart heavy with sadness, feeling more alone than ever. Why was your stepdad this way, you wondered?

Unable to bear it any longer, you fled to your room, closing the door a bit too loudly behind you. Frustration bubbled up inside you, threatening to explode. You groaned and threw yourself onto your bed, tears streaming down your face as you cried out in despair.

"Damn you, William," you choked between sobs, placing a trembling hand on your stomach. "How could you do this to me? How could you do this to my mom? You knew it, you knew all along that something like this could happen and yet -"

You bit your lip and never finished that sentence. Instead, you pulled a yellowing pregnancy test from beneath your pillow – two purple lines stared back, cold and unyielding, a stark reminder of your fate.

The memory of William barging into your room, a smug grin plastered on his face, came rushing back. He had casually tossed you the pregnancy test, demanding that you take it immediately.

"Go on," he'd sneered, "make sure you get it right."

“I’m not pregnant,” you had said boldly. It was what you had hoped, after all. A baby would complicate so many things. It sounded like a nightmare, not a dream. Not like this.

You recalled the humiliation and fear as he forced you to go to the bathroom, standing by your side like a perverse sentinel as you peed on the stick. His eyes never left you, a twisted fascination in his gaze, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of being violated.

"Good girl," he'd said mockingly once you were done, the words dripping with malice. He’d celebrated the outcome of the test quite elaborately. “Let’s see if we can make it twins.” You felt dirty thinking back of it.

Now, staring down at the damning evidence in your hand, you thought about how you probably got pregnant around the same time as your mom. The realization churned your stomach, the sheer wrongness of it all making your head spin. Both of you, carrying this man's child – it was too much to bear.

"Fuck you, William," you whispered bitterly, clenching the pregnancy test tightly in your hand. Your breaths came in shallow and ragged as you tried to calm yourself, focusing on the sensation of the life growing inside you.

"Stay strong," you told yourself, trying to push away the dark thoughts swirling in your mind. "This baby... this baby is innocent. It’s his doing. He is trying to break this family apart."

A knock on the door startled you, and you quickly hid the stick beneath your pillow. Grabbing a book, you pretended to read, hoping to mask your tear-streaked face.

"Sweetie, can I come in?" your mom asked, stepping into the room. Her eyes scanned your face, noting the redness and damp trails on your cheeks. "Oh, sweetheart…I know it's a lot to take in," she said gently, "but I really want you to be happy for me."

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to muster a smile. "Of course, Mom. I'm happy for you both."

"Thank you," she said, her voice soft and grateful. "And with me getting further along in my pregnancy, I'll probably need your help more around the house. Can I count on you? I think you’d be a wonderful big sister."

"Sure, Mom," you agreed, your voice barely audible. As you spoke, William appeared in the hallway, his chilling gaze locked onto yours. He wordlessly flashed two sonograms – one of your mom's baby, the other of your own – before placing a finger to his lips, warning you to stay silent. You had to be quiet; you knew that much.

"Of course, I'll help you, Mom," you reassured her, forcing a smile. "Because I am young and strong."

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. "Thank you, sweetheart," she murmured.

Suddenly, you felt a flutter within your belly – a small kick from the life growing inside you. Your eyes turned wide as you prayed no one had seen it. Your mom’s eyes were still soft and focused on your face. But your stepdad’s cold blues had darted down to your stomach.

As your mom left the room, William's sinister presence lingered in the doorway, then vanished.

How long could you keep this little life hidden?

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#stepdad!william afton #stepdad x stepdaughter #stepdad!william afton x reader #william afton x reader #pregnant reader #angst

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mononijikayu · 5 months

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what are you doing new year's eve? ― nanami kento

The cafe was long behind them, and the echoes of jazz lingered in the little hums from her lips, accompanying them in their steps as they ventured into the winter night. In that quietude, they began leaving behind the remnants of that dance in the summer and that night in the jazz bar, stepping into the unscripted chapter that awaited them. Tomorrow was a new year, and in the cold winter streets of Copenhagen, both of them were certain—it was made for being together.

GENRE: Post - Jujutsu High, 2010s;

WARNING/s: Love at First Sight, Humor, Fluff, Hurt, Mild Angst, Emotional Scars, Mentions of Guilt, Depiction of Depression, Learning to Live with Grief, Moving Forward;

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HE THINKS HE SHOULD HAVE WORN A WARMER COAT. Nanami Kento could feel his nose numbing as he tried to breathe air into his already exasperated lungs. He knew it was far too cold to wear this sort of coat. But he did not feel like going back into the house and scrambling through his winter clothes. He also did not want to see his grandmother fuss over him. She worries as much as his mother.

As much as he loved them both, he did not want them to worry too much about him. The cold could be bearable. But perhaps his restlessness was not. He needed to get out of the house. He just couldn’t take the four walls of his room anymore. He wouldn’t be able to bear it much longer.

The bitter wind, crisp and biting, meandered through the labyrinthine streets of Copenhagen, weaving its way around the ancient architecture that bore witness to the city's rich history. Each gust carried with it the distinctive scent of the nearby sea, a salty whisper that spoke of untold tales and distant horizons. In this Nordic city, where the air was charged with the essence of maritime adventure, Nanami Kento walked with purpose.

A year had passed since Nanami made the daring decision to sever ties with the tumultuous world of jujutsu. The echoes of battles fought and sacrifices made lingered in his memory, but the decision to leave it all behind had granted him a newfound sense of freedom. Seeking solace from the haunting shadows of his past, he found refuge in the comforting embrace of his grandparents' home—a haven nestled in the heart of this foreign land.

The cobblestone streets beneath his boots whispered tales of centuries gone by, and the vibrant hues of the buildings stood in stark contrast to the monochrome memories Nanami had left behind. In the midst of this cultural tapestry, he discovered solace, a respite from the constant turmoil that had defined his life.

As he walked through the city, the wind tugged at the collar of his coat, a reminder of the world he had chosen to leave behind. Yet, there was a promise in the air, an intangible current that hinted at new beginnings. Copenhagen, with its fusion of tradition and modernity, offered Nanami a canvas on which to paint the next chapter of his life.

Arriving at the doorstep of his grandparents' home, he felt the weight of the wooden door, weathered by time and stories. It swung open to welcome him, and the warmth within enveloped him like a familiar hug. The walls whispered tales of his own childhood, and the aroma of his grandmother's cooking wafted through the air, grounding him in the present.

In this foreign land, amidst the echoes of harsher winters than that of his own, Nanami discovered the beauty of starting anew. The bitter wind, though relentless, became a companion on his journey of self-discovery. As the sea-scented breeze caressed his face, he couldn't help but feel that, in Copenhagen, he had found a sanctuary—a place where the echoes of the jujutsu world could finally be drowned out by the soothing symphony of a city that embraced him without judgment.

It was a crisp winter morning, the kind that painted the world in hues of silver and white. Nanami Kento ambled through the narrow, quaint streets of the city, a foreign canvas upon which his footsteps left imprints of newfound freedom. The Nordic air, crisp and invigorating, filled his lungs with each breath, replacing the dense, suffocating atmosphere of the jujutsu world with the promise of serenity.

As he meandered through the snow-covered landscape, the weight that had burdened his shoulders for so long began to dissipate. The Scandinavian calm enveloped him like a soothing balm, soothing the wounds inflicted by battles fought and choices made. The city, adorned in its winter finery, seemed to cradle Nanami in its embrace, offering respite from the storm he had weathered.

Yet, in the quiet moments of solitude, Nanami couldn't escape the specters of his past. The thought of Mikoto Nobuhiko lingered in the recesses of his mind—the glistening eyes, the unspoken emotions that danced between them as they parted ways in the dorms. The memories of youth, now distant echoes, resurfaced, particularly the haunting image of standing before a cobblestone tomb where a dear friend rested, taken too soon. Nanami often found himself plagued by self-blame, haunted by the belief that he could have done more, that he could have altered the course of fate.

In the quiet of Copenhagen's winter, he couldn't shake the dreams of Yu Haibara and his infectious boyish smile. The gentleness that once defined Yu, stolen away by the unforgiving hands of the cruel world, haunted Nanami's subconscious. Yet, like a mantra, he reminded himself that those days were gone, a realm he could never revisit. The past, with its joys and sorrows, had become an unalterable tapestry that no amount of yearning could unravel.

Copenhagen, with its cold tendrils caressing his skin, became a sanctuary where Nanami sought solace. The chill, instead of biting, cradled him tenderly, a reminder that he had escaped the clutches of a world he could never truly leave behind. The city, with its ancient charm and modern allure, became a backdrop for Nanami's journey forward.

It whispered promises of a new beginning, a life unburdened by the shackles of the past. In the heart of Copenhagen, Nanami found relief, and as he navigated the snow-kissed streets, he embraced the present, determined to forge a path ahead—one guided not by regret, but by the gentle touch of a city that offered him a canvas upon which to paint the chapters of his rebirth.

The familiar street greeted him like an old friend, its cobblestones beneath his feet whispering tales of summer days gone by. Just a few months ago, Nanami Kento had wandered these same lanes during the summer break. The memories of those warm days lingered, woven into the fabric of the city's essence.

His grandfather, a jazz musician with a passion that spanned decades, had been a regular attendee of the music festival that graced the city every summer since the '70s. Kento, in tow, became a witness to the traditions that bound generations together. It had been a family affair, with his mother, equally enamored with jazz, usually accompanying them. However, that particular summer, his mother opted to spend time with his grandmother, leaving Kento with his father and grandfather.

As he traversed the familiar route, Kento couldn't help but reminisce about that summer day when the vibrant world of jazz had captured his senses. The infectious rhythm and soulful melodies had beckoned him, and he had surrendered himself to the music, if only for a brief moment. Little did he anticipate that this impromptu decision would act as a catalyst, altering the trajectory of his life.

The memories of that summer warmed his heart as he strolled through the well-trodden path. The city, once again alive with the spirit of jazz, seemed to echo with the tunes that had left an indelible mark on his soul.

And then, as if the city itself orchestrated a serendipitous encounter, he found himself standing in the same spot where destiny had intervened months ago. His gaze fell upon a young woman, her beauty transcending the ordinary. A wide smile graced her face, and her infectious laughter mingled with the music that enveloped the space. Her dress swirled around her as she danced with a partner, the joyous energy radiating from her like a beacon.

She fell into her partner's chest, laughter bubbling forth like a melody, and when she turned to face Kento, her eyes sparkled with an intensity that rivaled the sun. Before he could fathom what was happening, she took him by the hand, her eyes silently urging him to join the dance.

A playful gleam lit up her eyes as she extended her hand toward him, the vivacity in her voice cutting through the ambient jazz notes. He felt hesitant for a moment, turning to his father and grandfather with sudden panic. He did not know how to react. They nodded at him, smiling and urging him forward.

The air was charged with excitement and vibrant wonder, and as the first notes of a jazz tune enveloped them, Kento couldn't resist the magnetic pull of the music and the enchanting woman who had chosen him as her dance partner.

"Come on, don't be shy! Let the music guide you," she urged, her grin infectious, and in that instant, Nanami Kento felt a magnetic pull that transcended both time and space.

Without a word, he took her hand, and as their fingers intertwined, an unspoken connection ignited. The jazz, a melodic symphony that seemed to resonate from the very heart of the city, served as the backdrop to their impromptu dance.

The crowded space with its eclectic mix of jazz enthusiasts faded into the background as they swayed and twirled to the rhythm of the music. The world ,with its indifference and worries, ceased to exist within the warmth of the shared moment. In the heart of Copenhagen, surrounded by the echoes of jazz, Nanami Kento and the mysterious woman moved in perfect harmony.

The music, like a benevolent guide, dictated their steps, leading them through a dance that felt both spontaneous and rehearsed. As they spun and dipped, the energy of the jazz festival enveloped them, creating a cocoon where the troubles of the past and uncertainties of the future held no sway.

The woman's laughter, a melody of its own, echoed through the cobbled streets, interweaving with the jazz notes in a harmonious dance. Nanami, typically reserved and guarded, found himself surrendering to the rhythm, losing track of time and space. For those fleeting moments, the weight of the jujutsu world, the ghosts of his past, all seemed to dissipate in the cadence of their shared dance.

As the final notes of the jazz piece resonated through the air, the applause of the café's patrons brought them back to reality. The woman, still caught in the joy of the dance, turned to Nanami with a bright smile.

"That was amazing! Thank you for dancing with me," she expressed, her eyes reflecting genuine appreciation.

Nanami, a rare warmth lingering in his eyes, met her gaze. "No, thank you. It was a pleasure," he replied, a sentiment that transcended mere words.

He tried not to be embarrassed as he stepped away from her and back towards his father and grandfather. They continued to clap and laugh and praise him for doing well. Father even bragged about having taken a video and promised to show it to his mother later. He groaned about it as they continued to walk off and go to the path towards the other jazz musicians.

He did not know if it was the Danish sun that was hot all summer that made him feel so warm.

But as he turned back, seeing the young woman smile and giggle.

He was certain that the warmth he felt would stay with him throughout.

The spellbinding dance in the heart of bright, sunny Copenhagen had not only offered Nanami an escape from his past but had also kindled a connection that felt destined—a dance of a lifetime that he would carry with him, a cherished memory of a summer's day in a city that had become his unexpected refuge.

Restlessness gripped Nanami Kento with an unyielding tenacity, casting a pervasive shadow over the edges of his solitude. Within the confines of his own thoughts, dark tendrils of contemplation writhed like wildfire, unwelcome and intrusive. He loathed this emotional turbulence, an unwelcome companion that had persisted, refusing to release its hold on him even after the passage of time.

Seated with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, Nanami took deliberate, deep breaths, attempting to quell the tempest within his mind. The warmth of the beverage offered a comforting contrast to the internal chill that clung to him. It was a battle against the relentless onslaught of thoughts, a struggle against the emotions that threatened to consume him.

In this moment of quiet reflection, he pondered the futile hope that distance could sever the ties to haunting memories. He had sought solace miles and miles away, yearning to escape the accusatory gazes that whispered tales of abandonment and the painful eyes that spoke the language of goodbyes.

As he sighed, the warm breath escaping his lips seemed to carry with it the weight of unresolved emotions. Nanami couldn't escape the relentless echoes of the past, and even in the sanctuary of a quiet corner with a steaming cup before him, the turmoil within persisted. The hot chocolate, a feeble antidote, offered temporary respite, but the battle against the haunting shadows of his thoughts endured.

It was a struggle against an invisible adversary, an emotional warfare that unfolded within the confines of his own consciousness. Nanami, with each deliberate sip, attempted to find solace, seeking refuge in the simple act of indulging in the warmth of his drink. Yet, the restlessness, like an indomitable force, continued to linger, an ever-present companion on his journey through the labyrinth of his own emotions.

The familiar walls of his grandparents' home, while comforting, seemed to close in on him, urging him to escape the confines of his own thoughts. Sensing his need for reprieve, his grandfather, a sage figure of wisdom and understanding, suggested a simple remedy—take a walk.

The time-worn walls of his grandparents' home, though steeped in familiarity and the embrace of cherished memories, now seemed to tighten their grasp on Nanami Kento. Despite their comforting presence, they took on an almost oppressive quality, closing in around him like silent witnesses to the turmoil within his mind. The quietude of the rooms, once a haven, now echoed with the resonance of unspoken thoughts, urging him to seek refuge beyond the confines of his own contemplations.

His grandfather seemed to recognize the restlessness that brewed within Kento's being. Perhaps his mother has felt this way before too. Grandfather smiled at him tenderly. He was like a sage whenever Kento looked at him. It was as though he was someone who years carried the weight of experience and the gentle wisdom of time.

Certainly, he sensed the need for reprieve in his grandson's troubled heart. It was amidst this silent acknowledgment that the elderly patriarch offered a remedy as simple as it was profound—take a walk and relieve your heart with the sights of something else.

The suggestion hung in the air, laden with the unspoken understanding that sometimes, the remedy for a restless soul lay not in grand gestures or complex solutions, but in the simplicity of a deliberate step outside. The labyrinth of thoughts could often be navigated more effectively under the open sky, where the vastness of the world provided both perspective and solace.

Nanami, sensing the gravity of his grandfather's suggestion, nodded in silent agreement. It was a tacit acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that transcended generations—the understanding that, in the face of internal struggles, the wisdom of an elder could guide one towards a path of renewal.

As he stepped out into the crisp air, the creaking door behind him seemed to release not just his physical form but also the weight of his emotional burden. The world outside, bathed in the soft hues of daylight, became a canvas for introspection and healing.

Nanami's footsteps echoed the rhythm of his contemplations, each stride serving as a subtle declaration of his intent to navigate the labyrinth of his thoughts with the simple act of walking—an age-old remedy, whispered from one generation to another, under the watchful eyes of time.

The winter air greeted him coldly as he stepped out onto the cobblestone streets of Copenhagen. With earphones in place, the soothing rhythms of bossa nova provided a backdrop to his aimless journey. Each step resonated with a silent yearning to untangle the threads of his restless mind.

The city unfolded before him, a tapestry of ancient charm and modern allure, and Kento wandered through its labyrinthine streets, losing himself in the rhythmic cadence of his footsteps. As the city whispered tales of its storied past, he meandered through the enigmatic alleys, the bossa nova notes acting as a companion to his contemplations.

However, fatigue eventually set in, and as if guided by an unseen force, Kento found himself standing at the entrance of a familiar courtyard. The air seemed to shimmer with a sense of déjà vu, transporting him back to the vibrant days of summer. It was as if the city itself conspired to lead him to this very spot.

Without much thought, he stepped into the charming café tucked away in the corner of the courtyard. The ambiance was a sensory symphony, the warm notes of a saxophone enveloping him like a gentle embrace. The air buzzed with the lively laughter and animated chatter of cafe-goers, creating an atmosphere that felt alive with shared joy.

Nanami chose a seat near the small stage, drawn like a moth to the enchanting voice of the singer who held court before a captivated audience. The music, a melodic potion, seemed to weave a spell around him, momentarily quieting the restlessness that had plagued his thoughts. The singer, with a voice that resonated with emotion and grace, commanded the attention of everyone present, casting a spell that transcended the ordinary.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the café and the entrancing melodies of the festival, Nanami Kento found himself once again caught in the embrace of the city's magic. The saxophone's soothing tones and the singer's enchanting voice served as a balm for his restless soul, providing a sanctuary where the worries of the world outside momentarily ceased to exist.

It was her, singing as though an angel sent from above.

Nanami Kento felt his lips part, but no words could come out.

He felt that same warmth, just as he had that summer's day in her arms.

As the musical crescendo reached its zenith, the singer's gaze, like a beacon in the dimly lit cafe, found Nanami Kento's eyes. In that ephemeral connection, a knowing smile graced her lips, a silent acknowledgment that transcended the audible notes and resonated with the unspoken language of their shared musical experience.

In that moment, it was as if a secret pact had been forged, sealed with the mutual understanding that they were both voyagers on a sonic journey, each note a stepping stone leading them to the heart of the melody.

The singer, bathed in the golden glow of the stage lights, seemed to surrender herself to the intoxicating passion of the music. Her eyes, illuminated with a spark of something indefinable, drank deeply from the chalice of its harmony, as if she were communing with a force beyond the tangible. It was a transcendent communion, where the boundaries between artist and art blurred, leaving only the essence of emotion that permeated the air.

For Kento, the allure of her presence became an irresistible force, a magnetic pull that tethered him to the heart of the performance. As he watched her, he felt not just the music but the very essence of her being infused with the atmosphere.

It was as though she and the music were indivisible entities, two sides of the same coin, each note an extension of her soul. In the canvas of the cafe, where the air hummed with the residue of melodies, life unfolded before him in the form of this captivating songstress.

The symbiosis between the singer and the music was palpable, a dance of mutual surrender. It was as though she embodied the very spirit of the composition, becoming the living, breathing manifestation of the melodies that cascaded around her.

The passion that emanated from her was contagious, and in that intimate space, Nanami Kento found himself caught in the intricate dance between artist and audience, the boundaries between their worlds momentarily dissolved.

In the presence of this goddess, life seemed to harmonize with the cadence of her voice. It was as though the cafe itself had become a sacred space, where the divinity of music and the essence of existence converged, creating a symphony that transcended the ordinary.

In those moments, as the singer basked in the afterglow of the song's climax, Nanami Kento couldn't help but feel that he had witnessed not just a performance but a manifestation of life's profound beauty.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the atmosphere of the cafe transformed into a timeless realm where Nanami Kento found himself ensconced in the spell of both music and the captivating presence of the singer. The rhythm became a pulse, and time, a fluid entity that seemed to elude the constraints of the clock. She sang, her voice a melodic river that coursed through the air, and Kento, a willing captive, lost himself in the undulating waves of sound.

Her singing was a continuous offering, a stream of prayers that flowed from her lips, each note like a sacred incantation. Kento, seated in the audience, listened with a reverence that bordered on the worshipful. It was as though he paid homage to a goddess of music, and in the repetition of the praises, he found himself entranced by the enchanting cadence that echoed through the space.

In a serendipitous twist of fate, Kento learned that she was a last-minute replacement, a sudden vacancy in the band leaving them without a singer.

Her brother, a member of the jazz band, had called her at the eleventh hour to fill the void. She chuckled at the unexpected turn of events, downplaying the praises that showered upon her. She waved them off, saying she was no singer. That she was no professional.

Yet Kento, a discerning listener, recognized the truth in those praises. They all ring true. Her voice, a celestial melody that resonated with his very soul, had woven itself into the fabric of his being.

When the final notes of the last song melted into the ether, the cafe erupted in applause. The singer, basking in the aftermath of her musical journey, cast a gentle smile in Kento's direction. It was a moment of acknowledgment, a silent exchange that transcended the applause and connected them on a level beyond the tangible.

As she prepared to leave the stage, she thanked everyone for coming. She started to say goodbye to members of the band and grinned at them, joking with them for a bit and kissed her brother's cheek and left the stage. Her brother was doing the next set as just jazz music, and so the claps and cheers finished and began anew as the band started to play once more. The cafe had turned into the bar it was at night.

The warmth of the cafe–bar gave way to the chill of the outside world. Opening the door, she let out a disgruntled sound and started complaining about the winter cold with her thick She started to stepped out into the cold, fumbling with the buttons of her winter coat. In that transitional moment, as the boundary between the magical world of music and the reality of the winter night blurred, Kento felt an unfamiliar impulse surge within him.

Seizing the opportunity, propelled by a courage he hadn't known existed, he stepped forward to bridge the gap between their worlds. The cold air hung heavy with anticipation as he took a chance, driven by an urge to break free from the silent observer and become an active participant in the unfolding drama of the night.

"Wait," the words escaped Nanami Kento's lips, a sudden impulse that caught even himself off guard. The singer turned towards him, her eyes a curious but kind inquiry, as if the melody of his voice had woven its own verse into the lingering notes of the music. "I think I know you."

Her gaze studied his face for a moment before recognition sparked in her eyes, and a smile began to blossom on her lips. "I met you, this summer. Didn't I? We danced together, just nearby!"

A nod from Kento, his heart resounding with each beat, a rhythm echoing the memories of that summer encounter. "Yes, I just... I just thought I was mistaken."

Her grin widened, a playful glint in her eyes. "Well, you weren't. Good for you, hm?"

"I, uh... I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither," she responded, her hands finding refuge in her pockets, the winter air lending warmth to her words. "But my brother needed my help, and it's his last gig for the year. I thought I should help him out."

"I see."

"What's your name?"

"Kento," he replied, the syllables escaping almost too quickly for his liking. "Kento Nanami."

"Oh, you're Japanese?" A moment of realization crossed her features, and she gracefully bowed to him. Switching to Japanese, she continued, "It's nice to meet you."

Caught off guard, he reciprocated the bow, his face reflecting a mixture of surprise and astonishment. The unexpected reunion and the sudden switch to their shared language in the heart of Copenhagen added an unforeseen twist to the unfolding moment.

She giggled as she shared her name, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed as if Nanami was attempting to etch it into the recesses of his memory.

"I think I should go, Nanami—kun. After all, it's getting late."

"O-oh, uh... of course."

With a casual wave, she added, "Happy New Year, Nanami-kun."

"Happy New Year," he replied, the exchange marking a momentary farewell. Yet, just as she began to turn away, an inexplicable force pulled at him.

He called out to her again. That was what stunned him. He called her name by the pure, unexpected impulse. He did not know if she will turn around. But when she turned, still smiling, he could feel his heart pound so hard in his chest. It hurt to feel so warm inside, so almost exposed to the echoes of life.

Yet he knew he wanted to be greedy, at this moment.

Nanami Kento thinks he will not be able to not speak his heart aloud.

Because deep within, he found himself reluctant to let her slip away.

Scratching the back of his head, heat flushing his face, he mumbled, "I don't really do this, and I... I don't really know what will happen after I say it. But I just had to ask."

Her grin persisted, "What is it, stranger?"

"Would you like to have a meal with me?" He mumbles out, barely coherent. "Not here....just. Let's look for a place to eat at."

The question lingered in the air, suspended between the notes of the fading jazz melody, the enchantment of Copenhagen's winter night, and the thread of connection woven through their shared history of a summer dance.

It was a daring proposition, an invitation that transcended the boundaries of the ordinary, as if the cafe–bar itself held its breath in anticipation of her response.

Her eyes, still carrying the sparkle of their shared memories, held a playful curiosity as she considered his invitation. The cafe and bar, wrapped in the quietude of the aftermath of the performance, seemed to wait with bated breath for her answer.

The allure of possibility wafted through the space, a subtle hum in the air that resonated with the unspoken possibilities of a shared coffee, a continuation of a story that had begun in the rhythms of a summer dance.

She tilted her head, the smile on her lips carrying a hint of mischief, "Well, Kento—kun, I suppose it would be a shame to let such an unexpected reunion end so quickly, wouldn't it?"

Nanami Kento felt a surge of relief and excitement, the uncharted territory of possibility stretching before them. It was as though this moment just felt right. Everything he felt was right. Everything he felt about life shifted and changed and merged and broke. Everything in this moment was beyond comprehension. Everything about tonight was a once and a lifetime miracle.

"I'd like that," he replied, a sincerity in his voice that mirrored the warmth that had been kindled within him. "Very much."

She hums back, happily. "Hm, me too."

Their conversation, a delightful blend of laughter and shared memories, intertwined seamlessly with the enchanting atmosphere of the night. The lamplights cast elongated shadows on the cobblestone streets, creating an intimate tableau as they meandered through the city's silent alleys.

It was a dance of words beneath the glow, a choreography of sentences and responses that mirrored the ebb and flow of the moonlit waves on a distant shore.

The moon, a silent sentinel in the celestial expanse, bestowed its tender glow upon them, as if lending an ethereal blessing to this rendezvous. Its silver light, filtered through the winter night's breath, painted their silhouettes against the backdrop of Copenhagen's timeless beauty.

Underneath the moonlit canvas, they strolled with a leisurely pace, navigating the labyrinth of streets with no particular destination in mind. Each step was a sentence in the unwritten story of their night—a story that seemed to unfold organically, propelled by the magnetic pull of shared laughter and the quiet understanding that words could convey.

As they wandered, the city's pulse seemed to quicken, echoing the cadence of their conversation. The facades of historic buildings, adorned with tales of centuries past, watched over them like ancient guardians privy to the secrets exchanged in the moonlit embrace of the night.

The chill in the air did nothing to cool the warmth that radiated between them. Their breath mingled with the winter mist, creating an ephemeral veil around their steps. It was a dance of tenderness, orchestrated by the moon's watchful gaze and accompanied by the distant symphony of the city—footsteps on cobblestones, the occasional rustle of leaves, and the murmur of waves caressing the nearby shore.

As they continued to amble through Copenhagen's nocturnal embrace, the moonlight etched a silent poem in the sky, an ode to unexpected reunions and the timeless beauty of shared moments beneath its watchful eye. The city, in its slumber, whispered its approval, its ancient heart beating in harmony with the melody of their conversation. And in that tranquil interlude, two souls found solace in the delicate dance of words and the moonlit romance of a winter night in Copenhagen.

The cafe and bar was long behind them, and the echoes of jazz lingered in the little hums from her lips, accompanying them in their steps as they ventured into the winter night. In that quietude, they began leaving behind the remnants of that dance in the summer and that night in the jazz bar, stepping into the unscripted chapter that awaited them.

Tomorrow was a new year, and in the cold winter streets of Copenhagen, both of them were certain—it was made for being together.

writer's notes: i hope this makes up for the overtly sad sad stuff i write on here. this is a new year chapter for the new years!!! happy new year everyone!!! thank you for your support throughout 2023!!! let's be together happily in 2024 too!!!

fact about nanami and his wife this chapter: nanami's parents visited and attended a jujutsu sorcerer christmas party. his parents showed gojo the video of young nanami dancing with his wife in copenhagen. needless to say, nanami is not pleased. nanami's wife often comes to her brother's rescue when the singer of their band makes excuses. she has a really good singing voice and it helped nanami during sleepless nights or after a nightmare. she's been recruited a couple of times to be a professional singer, but she prefers writing! nanami's wife can speak japanese because her favorite uncle married a japanese woman. she wanted to be able to speak to her, so she and her aunt learned japanese and danish together. i always imagine nanami's wife's voice be like narumi from wotakoi while i write her dialogue. she sounds soft spoken but energetically bright to me. she was played by arisa date. here's a sample of narumi's voice. nanami's top three favorite music genre is hard rock, alternative rock and jazz. but he would listen to all types of music too. nanami's wife likes a lot of sorts of music, but she grew up around jazz, pop and ballad. the day of their wedding, gojo's present to nanami's wife was a giving her a flash drive of second year nanami kento singing and jamming out to evanescence's bring me back to life. his wife calls it the best video ever. nanami has tried to take the flashdrive but his wife has made subsequent copies! copenhagen is nanami and his wife's favorite city to be in whenever they're in denmark. its everything to them to be there on july, when the jazz festival happens when they first met and near new year when they had they met again. the years after this, when they confessed in snow flower, on new year's eve, when he and her came back to the jazz bar and ate at the same place as their first date as a couple.

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hearts4youz · 4 months

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The Captains Daughter- Chapter 18

A/N: Thank you all for readinggg!! this one took awhile to come out so thank you for being patient with me :D

Word count: 1.3k

Taglist: @abbiesxox @n30n-j3lly @weird-katthing @kayoyamamegame @kroowonderemporium @astro-ghoul99 @darkravenqueen98 @gaylilangelbaby @yuunnnaaaa

Ghost's pov It's been a few days… I have not spoken to Y/N once. I feel terrible as she spends less time with me. Occasionally offering a sad, guilt filled smile in the mess hall or at meetings. I haven't shown up for training in days, I wonder if she still waits for me at the gym. I hate to say it but I miss her. Even though I feel so bitter and cranky this time of year. I've never felt this for anyone. Being around Y/N makes me feel good. It makes this job feel less like a job. It sounds cliche but it's true. This morning, I find myself walking to where Y/N and I usually train. I straighten my shoulders and put on a serious face as I walk in. I expect Y/N to not be there, but Instead I am greeted with the sight of her pretty face breaking into surprise as I enter. I try my best to keep my eyes void of emotion, although I want nothing more than to hold her and whisper apologies into her ear. "Good morning Lieutenant," she says respectfully as she stands at attention. My gaze softens. "Y/N…" "About the other day, I shouldn't have yelled at you. I just…" I can't believe I'm about to tell her this "I don't know how to deal with this… your kindness." She looks up at me questioningly. "The guys don't usually question my behavior because that's just how dude's are, but you… You're changing me Y/N." I pause "I really enjoy your company, you don't piss me off… well, not as much as other people I guess," I smirk. She giggles. "I want to be a better person, I don't like how people are scared of me," I sigh as I finish. "Can I give you some advice?" She asks. "Mhm" "This might not make sense to you, but I think you should save Ghost for the battlefield and just be Simon for everyone else," "I don't follow," I say, confused. "Well, when I think of Ghost, I think of you in a fight. The huge guy with the skull mask and a gun. But Simon, Simon is you when you let loose. I haven't seen it much, but I like that version of you a lot better." I nod. "Okay… I think I get it." She changes the subject, "So, what do you have planned for training today?" "Hm, I think that's more of Ghost's thing, I'm Simon today," She beams at me with that radiant smile of hers, "You mean it?" "Yeah, It's time for a change," I say solemnly. Her and I walk out of the gym and into the hallway surrounded with a comfortable silence. We walk past the mess hall and break area and I notice something unusual. "What are they setting up over there?" I ask. "Oh, It's New Year's Eve so everyone who's off duty tonight is going to throw a party," She says softly, knowing the holiday topic is still sensitive. I surprise her with my answer, "Ah, I see… are you going?" "I guess so… why not?" We continue to walk in silence for a few moments. "You know… I think i'm going to go as well," I say finally. Her head tilts to the side and she raises her eyebrows, "Really!?" "…You know you don't have to go just because I suggested that you come out of your shell more often. I don't want you to get too overwhelmed." "I want to go, I should be getting out of my comfort zone more often." Y/N purses her lips, seemingly contemplating it. "Good, i'm glad," she smiles.

-Timeskip-

That night, I stood with Gaz and Soap having a beer while scanning the room for Y/N. "I wonder who Ghost could be looking for," Gaz joked to Soap, who snickered in response. I only rolled my eyes and looked down at my half empty drink. "Y'know LT, i'm glad you came, this is nice," Soap confesses. "It is, I like this more laid back you," Gaz agrees. "You can thank Y/N, she inspired it," I tell them. "Psht, of course she did." "You could get some action tonight… if you play your cards right," Soap says leaning in closer and lowering his voice. "Wha- I'm not… she wouldn't…" I sputter out, rapid fire. "Not like that, get ya head out the gutter!" I blush and chuckle. "What is it then?" "The captains on duty tonight, he won't be here to supervise his daughter, you could make a move," Soap shrugs. I bite my lower lip, realizing that this is the perfect opportunity to confess to Y/N "But, what if she rejects me, I still have to be able to look her in the eye in the morning," "Oh, for fucks sake! would you take a risk for once? live a little?" Gaz says, shaking his head. "Hey, I've never done this before! i'm nervous," I try defending myself. "LT's nervous? Ha! that's a first," Soap blurts, clapping me on the back. I ignore the rest of their gibes because I notice Y/N entering the room. Time seems to slow as she makes her way towards us in a sparkly silver mini dress. I feel my cheeks heat up beneath the mask as she flashes her signature smile when she sees us. I take in her hair and makeup, done to perfection. The heavenly scent of her perfume lingers in my nostrils when she stops and stands beside me. "Hey everyone," she says casually. I find myself lost in her beauty as she joins in the conversation, but as the night goes on, our group splits off. Gaz and Soap mingle with other people, I try to stick next to Y/N and talk with her, but she gets whisked off by someone every five minutes it seems like. Eventually I get overwhelmed, stepping outside and pressing my back up against the cold stone building. I fish around in my pocket for my cigs and a lighter. I put one in my mouth and thumb the lighter until I get it lit. I exhale deeply and watch my cold breath swirl up and away with the smoke. Maybe this was a bad idea after all… I think to myself. I watch the twinkling stars shift in the sky for awhile, It seems to calm my nerves. That, or the nicotine. I hear the sliding door open and close and peer at the person out of the corner of my eye. "Simon…?" the voice says. Y/N "Yeah, It's me," I gesture to her with my cigarette. "Is everything alright, I've been looking for you," she says softly. "Yeah… it's just a lot to take in I guess." "The party?" "The party, the people, the mindless, drunken talk." "Yeah, I get it." I turn to face her and she still looks beautiful as ever, her mascara smudged slightly onto her upper eyelid. Lipstick worn off, the remnants of it staining the glass of the drink in her hand. Her breath has a slight tinge of alcohol to it as she speaks. I notice the redness in her face, I can't help but think it could be me for a moment but then I look down at her. "Ah shit, you don't even have a coat on… here, take mine," I insist. "No, it's alright… I just got out here. Besides, wouldn't you be cold." "Just take it," I say, holding it out to her. "My father only taught me a few things that were worth a shit, being a gentleman is one of them." She reluctantly takes the jacket and slings it over her shoulders, thanking me. The heavy fabrics envelop her frame, her legs are still exposed. I have half a mind to bring her inside but then she starts talking. "Happy new year," she says quietly. I check my phone and see that it is indeed past midnight. "Happy new year, Y/N."

#cod 141 #cod mw2 #captain price #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #task force 141 #cod ghost #cod x reader #ghost call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #soap #john soap mactavish #dad!price

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occasionaloneshots · 2 years

Text

But I Do

Richie Tozier x Fem! Denbrough! Reader

Song Fic -Begin Again (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Sequel to Just Between Us

CW: Alchol/drinking mention, Bitter ex boyfriend, Siblings arguing, Richie and Bill arguing, small age gap, fluff, language, s*x jokes but not smut, he might be a little ooc but they are baby

Word Count: 8.3K

Turn the lock and put my headphones on He always said he didn't get this song

(Y/n)'s headphones were tight on her head from the moment she left her house. Of course she knew that baseball season had to start eventually but that didn't mean she was ready to be there. The girl loved her older brother, if she were to be completely honest with you he was her favorite sibling. But that didn't mean she was happy to watch er ex play his new girl cheering him on from the stands. His jersey number painted on her cheek where (Y/n) wished it was on hers. She was over him, at least she thought so, but the bitter knowledge that she was never going to be what he truly wanted still sat on her mind. Bill knew that too, offering her an out that she was honestly grateful for, but she felt too guilty taking it. So there she was listening to a mixtape that Angel had made for her as a birthday present. Her radio favorites playing over her ears to distract her from the way the crowd cheered them on, but eve then, the tape had it's own reminders.

She pulls them off for the first time since her arrival as she neared the concessions stand. Ordering a sprite which was promptly placed into her hand, bottle dripping from the cooler, as she handed them the cash for it. She stopped at the other window, grabbing napkins to dry the bottle and her own hands. And before she could the task finished to return to the bubble her headphones provided, she heard her name being called. She thought she imagined it at first before the second call. Turning on her heel to see none other than Richie Tozier who was holding a bright red can and giving her that smile she'd known her whole life. They hadn't talked since before her birthday, and hadn't seen each other since the day of it, though they all knew the day hadn't gone to plan. That was three months ago at this point, and sure she'd wave if the losers were near by, but outside of Bev and Mike, (Y/n) made sure to stay clear of Bill's friends. Maybe it was cruel but she could find it in her to blame Richie and Eddie for her birthday drama, even if Richie did attempt to apologize. But it somehow made her feel better to blame them just as much as she blamed Stan. It should be all on Stanley, she knew that, but to have someone to blame made her feel better.

"Richie, hey," she forces the smile, knowing he was too close to her for her to get out of this. "God, Denbrough, where have you been? I haven't seen you in forever," he wraps an arm around her and she can't stop herself from leaning into his touch. It's not like Richie was ever as close to her as Stan used to be, but she'd be a liar if she said that Richie didn't feel safe. It made that guilt of ignoring him bubble to the surface. He was a forgetful guy, maybe he just genuinely forgot her sixteenth. And he came over to apologize on her actual birthday, spending damn near the whole day with her, that's something Stan couldn't say. Maybe she could recognize that she was the bad guy there. Or maybe se was blinded by home much she'd missed the smell of his cologne and the way he ruffled her hair as he walked past her. She couldn't tell you which it was if she tried.

"Yeah, yeah, it's been a while. I was just trying to give the losers space I guess, you know after everything. I just didn't want to strain the group anymore than I already did." He scoffs shaking his head, "You didn't strain it, Stan did. You here alone or did you finally drag Angel to a game?" She shakes her head, nervously sipping her drink before she could respond. "Neither, I'm here with Georgie and our parents. Gotta cheer Bill on, you know." He nods, arm still around her shoulder as if she'd float away when he moved, "Well, then I think you should come join the club. We do miss you, Dollface, you have to know that somewhere in that stone little heart of yours." She ignores the nickname, nodding softly as she closes the bottle she's holding, "Yeah, I need to go ask my parents though, they've been weird about things since, well you know."

He didn't leave the younger girl's side as they made their way to the bleachers where her parents were sitting. Not even allowing his arm to fall from her as they made their way up the bleachers. And (Y/n) may have forgotten that he did it but her parents sure noticed it. "Hey, Richie asked if I could join him and Bill's other friends. Is that okay?" They both caught it as Mrs. Denbrough looked past the duo to nervously eye the field. "Please Mrs. Denbrough, your son has been hiding her from us for months and Eddie and I are really starting to miss her." (Y/n) catches out of the corner of her eye how Richie bats his lashes, earning him an elbow to the ribs. "Well I don't know," she starts, looking over the way that yet another of her son's friends was hanging onto her daughter. "Please Ma'am? Don't tell Bill but we kinda like her more than him." She opens her mouth to respond and (Y/n) can almost feel herself deflate as she waits for the no to escape her mom's lips. She didn't realize how much she missed the losers until she realized that ignoring them may not be her choice anymore.

"Mommy," Georgie cuts in, once again attempting to be his sister's saving grace, "He's on the field with Bill, let her go see Bev and Richie." The older woman sighs, looking up to Richie, "Beverly is there?" "Yes Ma'am," he doesn't miss a beat, obviously looking more hopeful. "Then you can go, but stay with Beverly." She didn't expect to smile so wide as she turned to look at Richie whose face just mimicked hers. "Let's go, Denbrough!" She laughs, calling a "thank you" to her mom and mouthing one to her little brother. Who both send her a smile in response as they watch her make her way down the bleachers, Richie now trailing closely behind. "So, Dollface," his voice picks back up as they walk away from her family, "There's no ignoring me now. So how have you been?" She shakes her head, "The real question is, why were you just flirting with my mom? Stan with me, Bev with Bill, you with my mom? You're all trying to get in with the Denbroughs huh? Is there a bet I wasn't told about?" He rolls his eyes, bothered by the way she doges the question, "Oh of course. Eds though, he's going for your dad, you better hide him." "I'll keep that in mind," she giggles, starting up the bleachers where she could see the familiar look of Bev and Mike.

"I'm serious, (Y/n), how are you?" Her lip finds it's way between her lips stopping momentarily as his arm finds it's way back around her. "I'm getting better, I think I'm finding my old self again." He smiles, reaching over to ruffle her hair, "Good, because I missed you." She smiles up at him, nearly to the top of the bleachers, "I missed you too, Tozier." "Of course you did, I'm obviously your favorite loser." "Well," she drags it out, "You're definitely a loser. My favorite though? That's Bev without a doubt. You're second out of my brother's friends though." "Second? You met me before Bev." "Yeah, and I met Eddie first, what's your point?" "Well duh Eddie isn't your favorite, but why is Bev the favorite?" "She never cut my hair while I was sleeping," the girl shrugs, going ahead as she catches Bev's attention. "That was one time twelve years ago, let it go!" "What was twelve years ago-Oh my God, (Y/n)! I didn't know you were here," Mike is out of his seat to hug her before she can even reach the redhead she was walking to. "I wouldn't miss one of Bill's games." Bev pulls her away from Mike and down into a seat beside her before the boy can respond. "Yeah she is, and she was telling me about how Bev is her favorite because you never cut her hair when she was four." Bev's nose scrunches up, "Who cut your hair when you were four?" She just a thumb in Richie's direction as he steals the last seat beside her. "Richie! And then he tried to blame it on me, can you believe that?" Eddie huffs, patting the younger girl's knee as a silent hello. "So you've always been you, huh Trashmouth?" "I think it's what makes him so comforting," (Y/n) laughs over to Bev. Letting a smile settle on her face as the senior rested her head on her shoulder. The girl barely felt the way her headphones slipped off her neck as Richie put them on. He pulls them around his own neck as he turns to her. "I love this song, I didn't realize you even knew James Taylor." She turns to him, hearing the chorus of "Her Town Too" playing softly from around Richie's neck. "Yeah, Dad got me into him. I love that song. It's just, relatable I guess." He nods, "Yeah, it's sorta comforting. I don't know, I know it's not meant for me, but," his words die off, looking into her eyes, the way the sparkled at his words. "Yeah, but I think if you can find comfort in it that's what matters. Art comforts the disturbed or whatever it is that Wiggins is always saying." She bites her lip, not that she notices. Too caught up in the differences between the two best friends that she would have never noticed. Stan hated that song, he said he just didn't get it. It got turned off every time it came on. Not Richie though, he was slipping it back over his ears with a soft wink, turning up the volume. And unknown to her, he noticed the way she bit her lip as if she feared she'd said something wrong. But then again he noticed a lot of things that she'd never know. Like the way she'd completely ignore the existence of the losers club if Stan was there, but if he wasn't she'd wave to them on her walk to the stairs. Or how she bought a new record every paycheck even though most people were into cassettes or CDs now. It was always at the music store he worked at, the only one in Derry, and she'd pretend she didn't see him, even if he knew she did. God was he glad she didn't do that this time. Richie missed her, with every fiber in his being he missed the presence of the girl. He knew he'd never fully get over the guilt of missing her sweet sixteen. But she was there now, and he could thank himself for that.

Soon enough he was slipping one ear out of her headphones, and the three got lost in their own conversation. Richie and Bev seeming to make it their mission to keep (Y/n) laughing, and she had to be honest, she couldn't remember the last time shed laughed that hard. They didn't even realize the game was over until Bill and Stan were standing over them. He felt bad, knowing he'd have to end the conversation. When was the last time he saw his sister seem this care free and happy? And with his friends no less.

Luckily he didn't have to though, (Y/n) seeming to sense him standing there. "Billy! Hey look who found me," she smiles, leaning over onto Richie as she takes her headphones back. Bill fights the questioning look he wants to send Richie, but from the way Richie looks past him and raises an eyebrow, Stan didn't seem to. "Thanks for keeping her company, guys. (Y/n), you ready?" She pouts slightly, something that the three seniors watching her didn't miss as she stood up. "Yeah, I'll see you guys around right?" Richie nods, grabbing her hand for a second, "Don't be a stranger, okay?" " Yeah," she nods making her way to Bill, "Promise." And with that, Bill wrapped an arm around his sister and decided to lead her away before anyone else could say something to her. And she was thankful for that as she passed Stan, nearly clinging to her brother in hopes it would make the other boy disappear. But she barely felt that sense of bitterness that she was used to when she passed him. And for the first time since New Years Day, he didn't try to talk to her. To (Y/n)'s surprise, the first game day of the season was the best one she's had in a while.

I walked in, expecting you'd be late But you got here early and you stand and wave

She didn't learn her lesson. At least that's what Beverly and her own friends told her when they found out her plans for today. She knows she should leave her brother's friends alone, but it's Richie. Got in a fight on the playground over her when they were little kids, Richie. And it's not like she was expecting much from it, just a few laughs over a milkshake. And he'd probably be late, Richie was always late, it made her question how he and Stan were best friends. Truly each other's opposite, then again she was always more like Richie anyhow.

The bell above the door was a comforting sound as she entered the diner. When was the last time she even came in here? January?

"Oh no, I'm actually waiting on someone. She's going to want to pick the table, you know how it is." The voice caught her off guard, seeing Richie stand near the counter, talking to who she swore was Stanley. "You sure that she didn't stand you up? I mean, you're always late and she's not here." It was definitely Stanley and it filled her with nerves. Would he tell Bill? Would he cause a scene? The last thing she wanted was to cause more problems for Bill. Richie seems to take Stan's words to heart, nervously looking around the room for (Y/n), "No, I actually made a point to be early. She's been through a lot in the past few- there she is. Hey, Dollface!" (Y/n) makes her way to his side, swallowing her nerves, "Hey, Rich."

She could see Stan's clenched jaw in the corner of her eye as Richie pulls her into a hug, she couldn't help but hug back. "You wanna pick out the table?" She pulls away, looking around the room for a table. She sees that the table by the jukebox was open, that was always her place with her friends. She nods to it, grabbing Richie's hand, "That one." "I should have known," he teases, walking with her to the little booth. Their hands fall from each other's taking seats across from each other. He was more nervous than she'd ever seen him. "Sorry by the way, I uh, I didn't know that Stan was working today. I would have picked somewhere else if-" "It's okay, Rich, really. We should just focus on us, yeah?" He nods, reaching for her hand across the table, "Yeah, so, do you wanna share a milkshake like a silly little couple in the fifties? It could be fun." She giggles, drawing circles on his hand, "Of course, not chocolate though." "Yeah, yeah, chocolate ice cream tastes like chemicals and not chocolate. Do you want fries?"

She nods, slightly shocked that he remembered something like that. When is the last time she said that? When she was twelve? "You want strawberry?" She nods, biting her lip as she looks at him. "Then I'll be right back, I'm going to order at the counter so we don't have to wait." "Yeah, that's cool," she nods, dropping the boy's hand to let him stand up. She didn't know where her new shift came from, she'd never felt that nervous around Richie, but then again she'd never seen him act like this around her either. And of course, she'd never been on a date with Richie before. And having Stan near them for it, maybe she was just scared that this would be the same way that they were. God, maybe her friends were right. She couldn't be the girl who got her heart broken by two of her brother's friends. How embarrassing is that?

"Yes Stan, one milkshake with two straws," Richie's voice is carrying through the room now, and he was obviously annoyed. She turns her head, attempting to catch more of the conversation. Stan's voice didn't carry the way Richie's did , but his jaw was still clenched and the corners of his eyes were wrinkling, staring the boy down. "We are on a date, yeah, is that not allowed?" She wraps her arms around herself as she catches Stan stealing glances of her. "Oh yeah? I'm sure your girlfriend would be so interested to know how upset you're getting about your ex dating again. Especially when you were the one who broke up with her over the phone." Things are obviously getting heated between the friends as (Y/n) decides to get up, finding her way behind Richie. Her arms find their way around his waist, head leaning against his back, "Everything okay, baby?" Her voice isn't as loud as Richie's but she can tell Stan can hear her. "Yep, everything is just fine. Your order will be out soon." "Yeah," he turns around in the girl's arms stroking her back, "Let's go sit back down, yeah?" Her arms fall from around him as she nods, letting him grab her hand. She intertwines their fingers, swinging their arms slightly as they walk to their seat. "I'm sorry," her voice is soft but he catches it. "You didn't do anything wrong." "But-" He shakes his head, "Not a damn thing."

Richie drops her hand for just long enough to sit down, taking it back over the table. "So, (Y/n), I have a question." She sends him a smirk, "You know how to form those? I thought they might be too hard for you." He scoffs, rolling his eyes at her, "Well if you're going to be mean I will keep it to myself." She finds herself rubbing his hand with her thumb again, "No, ask me. I was playing around." He tries to act annoyed but it broke as he smiles at her, "Well, I was wondering if any seniors, or juniors I guess, had asked you to prom?" It caught her off guard, why would he want to ask that? She hated to admit it but Richie was hot, most of her brother's friends had been treated well by puberty, but Richie, he could definitely get who ever he wanted. So why (Y/n)? "No, no one has. Why?" He smiles, looking down at the way her thumb was still moving on his hand before looking back up, "Would you want to go? Maybe with your favorite senior?" She tilts her head, giving him a soft smile, "Depends." "Depends on what?" He looked nervous and it made her smile. "Well, what would I have to do to get you into a purple tie?" He raises his eyebrows, making a face she knew all too well, "Well, I mean." Her nose scrunches, thumb stopping on his hand, "I take it back. I don't want to go if I have to do that." He laughs, thumb now gliding across her hand the way she'd done to him, "I'm kidding, Doll. I'll wear whatever color you'd ask of me." "Well then, I'd love to go." And he pumps a fist in the air laughing softly, "A win for Richard Tozier!" It drags a laugh out of her too, God Richie had missed that sound.

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough had gotten used to Richie being at their house if Bill wasn't there. To say they were skeptical about how close their daughter was with the boy would be an understatement, but at the same time, the whole house expected this would happen eventually. And they were okay with it if it meant the house would stay the way it's been. (Y/n) and Richie were constantly laughing, the sound floating out of the living room or the girl's open bedroom door made the house feel alive in a way it hadn't been in months. The two just made sense Mr. Denbrough and Mr. Tozier used to joke about the two of them, but there at sixteen and eighteen, they weren't the little kids they were back then. But still, in ways they were. And everyone in both of there families knew, except for Bill. Even Beverly and Mike knew, but neither has found it in them to tell him. Not that they didn't want him to know, they just wanted to be sure they would actually be something before Bill found out.

But there they were, stretched out across the Denbrough couch, a sitcom rerun playing on the TV as they were wrapped up with each other. (Y/n)'s legs in Richie's lap as her back leans on the armrest. A large hand rests on her knee, rubbing circles on the side of her leg with his thumb while Bill was out at practice. The two and Georgie being the only ones in the house, the younger sitting in their dad's Lazyboy, doing his homework as he watches the show before him. But (Y/n) is too busy watching her boyfriend to pay attention to the show she'd normally watch with her brother. Watching the way that her boyfriend's head falls back onto the back of the couch laughter spilling out of his lips. And she can't help bit wonder if relationships are supposed to feel as easy as she and Richie feel. Did he know how nice it felt to know that he found her funny? Would she ever tell him? Maybe that could be her own little secret, how good she felt when he laughed.

"Rich, it's so not that funny. Should could have, like, I don't know, died or something!" She's laughing too but it's really not that funny. "From paint, Doll?" "The bucket fell on her!" "Well the bucket was empty, wasn't it?" "Well yeah, the paint fell a lot faster than the bucket," maybe it was awful that they were laughing this hard at Greta's mishap, but good God did they think she was awful. She reaches down on her leg, putting her hand on top of his, and as if out of habit, he lefts his other hand fall on top of hers. "Needy," she teases, a smirk stretching across her lips. "Shut up," he doesn't take his hand back from her though. They're too caught up in each other to hear the front door open. "So did you get your pretty purple dress?" "Yeah I did," she smiles over at him, "I can't wait for you to see it. Oh! I got your tie too, remind me to bring it to you before I let you leave." "Can I see it now?" She shakes her head, leaning up to kiss his cheek, "Nope, I want you to be surprised when you see me on prom night." "Boring," he draws it out teasingly but kisses her cheek before she leans back onto the arm of the couch. His soft smiles tells her that he's not actually upset about waiting.

"So, this is who asked you to prom?" Bill's voice catches the attention of the whole room, causing the whole room to look at him like they've been caught in the act. He's visibly upset, looking between the two teens as if wondering if he should be mad at his friend or his sister. "Bill, I assure you this is not what it looks like," Richie starts. (Y/n) untangles herself from Richie, allowing him to get up as he goes to approach Bill. "So you didn't just have your hands all over my little sister?" "No, one was on her hand and one was on her knee. They were very still." "Richie!" If the scenario wasn't so tense she'd be laughing as she yells at him, he know it too as he waves her off. "So, this is funny to you? You're taking advantage of my sister and that's funny to you?" "Woah," Richie's brows raise as he stares at the boy, "Taking advantage of her? We're not fucking, were joking on your couch while your little brother does his homework." "She just went through the worst breakup of her life, with your best friend, and now you're all over her so yeah, you're taking advantage of her, even if you still have your pants on.

"Billy, we were going to tell you, Mom and Dad, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Tozier know." She walks up, putting herself between her boyfriend and brother nervously. Richie instinctively wraps an arm around her, pulling her back slightly. "So you weren't going to tell me?" "We were, we just weren't going to tell you until we were sure we were actually something because we knew you'd be mad." "Well no shit," he rolls his eyes, arms crossing over his chest, "I told my friends that things had to stay platonic with you because I didn't want to see you hurt again. And so you actively sought out Richie? After everything? He saw what happened to you and you both said, wow let me do the exact same thing." "Do not fucking compare me to him," Richie's voice is obviously so upset that his voice is dropping, shoulders stiffening. "And to think, I thought he was lying to make himself look better because there was no way that Richie would do that."

"Do not compare me to him you asshole. I am nothing like him, I don't force her to lie and leave town to be around me. I'm actually proud to have her, I am nothing like him." "Yet who was he with when he never showed to her party?" "Bill," (Y/n) snaps, pushing Richie back slightly. "Go sit down," Bill is looking past her at Richie, jaw clenched in a way that made her nervous. "No." "(Y/n)," he flashes her a look and notices the stone cold look on her face. "William, you look like you want to hit him." "I do." Richie softly tugs her back as the siblings stare at each other. "Kitchen." "No." "William, kitchen, now. Richie, go sit with Georgie." "I don't want to leave you alone when he's like this," Richie dips down to her ear to whisper it. "I can handle Bill, you go sit," she snatches Bill's wrist, dragging him to the kitchen as she leaves her boyfriend's grip.

The eldest Denbrough sibling allowed his sister to drag him into the kitchen, despite the way he was fuming. "William, what the fuck was that?" Bill's mouth hangs open for a second truly shocked, "You're asking me that? Everything that you went through with Stan and you get with another one of my friends?" She rolls her eyes, walking over to lean against the counter, "God, Bill! He's not Stanley. He's Richie, Richard fucking Tozier! The guy who stayed by my side on my birthday for the whole day even though I wouldn't look at or talk to him because he felt guilty for missing my birthday party. Got a black eye from fighting a kid on the playground when he was eight because he fought a kid for being mean to me, Richie! The Richie who drove out to Bangor to pick up Angel and I because I called him crying even though he knew he'd get grounded for it. He's Richie!" Bill opens his mouth to argue but nothing comes out, letting the girl yell at him. "Richie, Bill, the guy who came over every day to make Georgie was okay after he broke his leg. Your childhood friend who always gave us the popsicles that he liked better because so did he. He's not Stanley, Bill."

Bill sighs, dragging his hand through his hair. She was right, of course she was, but he remembered her birthday and the New Years party. He watched her block out everyone for two weeks straight, he doesn't know if she could handle something like that again. Then again, did Richie really have that in him? If he wasn't being shy about it? "He's not Stan, you're right. I'm still not a fan of it though." She forces a smile, "You don't have to, just don't be a dick to him. He's actually a pretty good boyfriend." He raises an eyebrow, "Is he?" She nods, "You should have seen how fired up he got when Stan made a comment about seeing me in the diner." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, there was a whole scene."

You said you nеver met one girl who Had as many James Taylor records as you But I do

She roamed the music store alone, fingers brushing over the shelves. It was basically empty, the only other customer bein an older man who she often saw while she was in there.

"Looking for something specific, pretty girl?" She looks over her shoulder to see Richie standing behind her. "I didn't know you were working tonight!" She's smiling up at him, eyes shining as he presses a kiss to her temple. "You didn't answer my question." "I'm looking for a copy of'(Live)' it's the last one I need for my collection." "I'm so jealous," he whines, leaning over her to look in the crate she's looking in, "I don't have a full collection yet and you just need one more." "Yeah, but you got all of yours yourself and I got a lot of mine from my dad." "So you're saying you're a fake fan." 'Absolutely not, you just gave him more money than me. You're a broker fan." He rolls his eyes, wiping the lens of his glasses on his shirt, "Well wouldn't you be lucky to have a really cool boyfriend who works here? Maybe one who knows that we just got that exact album in with the new shipment that came in today."

She lets out an excited little gasp, turning to wrap her arms around his torso, "You're kidding." He shakes his head, "You owe me something for it though." She smiles, reaching up to wrap her arms around her neck, placing a soft kiss to his lips which seems to be his secret password as he pulls back smiling. "I'll be right back with it, you meet me at the counter." She lets him go, watching him walk away as if he had the most important mission in the world. "I'll the luckiest girl in the world," she calls as she hears the door to the back room open. "Yeah you are!" She makes her way up to the front counter, tapping her nails against its cold granite top.

She can't help the way her mind wanders as she waits. It was just so wild to her that he was so public with her. Kissing her in his job, knowing it would get caught on his work's security cameras and his boss would give him shit about being professional. Stan never would have kissed her at work like that, even if he wasn't on the clock. And Richie, it's like he craved her affections. (Y/n) was slowly beginning to understand what it was like to feel wanted, and it felt good. And the girl had no idea that she was doing the same for him.

"It was on the top shelf, you severely underpaid my efforts, Dollface." She gives him a fake pout, "You're tall, you'll live through it." He shakes his head, pulling it to his chest, "I had to get a ladder for it, that's hard work." She sighs, though he can tell it's in a teasing manor as she grabs his collar, tugging him closer so that he was halfway bet over the counter. Pressing a soft , longer kiss onto his lips. "Can I have my record now? Please, pretty boy?" He laughs, ringing her up as she lets his collar go. "Only because you're really cute. And a good kisser, not as good as Ms. K, but," he winks at her as she scoffs. "You're still on that? I'm so telling Eddie." "Don't you dare," he smiles at her, bagging the vinyl carefully so it wouldn't get messed up on her drive home. She smiles at him, finally pushing herself off the counter, "I can't believe you had it. This is so exciting, you have to come listen to this with me tomorrow." He reaches over, poking her nose, "I wouldn't miss it. You know, I've ever met anyone who was as into James Taylor as I am, no one who even liked him enough to buy the records so they held up better." She hums, looking up at him, "But I do."

He types in his employee discount code, not that he'd tell her he did. She'd argue with him for at least five minutes if she knew, so he just read her the total, thankful that she hadn't seen it on the shelf. Even if he knew that he'd be in trouble when she checked her receipt in the car. But she was worth giving up his discount, even if it cost him an argument about how he shouldn't do that. "Thank you, Rich. You're definitely going to be there tomorrow right?" "I wouldn't miss it, Doll."

She holds the record to her chest as she walks to the door, an excited smile stretched across her face. "That your girl?" "Yeah," he smiles over to her, seeing the way she'd stopped at the door, "She's mine." "Lucky boy," the man laughs, placing his items on the counter, "Seems like she has good taste." "Yeah, she does. No idea how she picked me out when she has good taste everywhere else." The response makes her giggle as she makes her way out of the door. His words echoing in her mind as she gets into her car.

We tell stories and you don't know why I'm coming off a little shy

(Y/n) smiles softly from her spot on Richie's lap, leaning against him as if he trust was going to disappear. She hadn't spent time with all seven members of the losers club since Halloween, she sorta felt like an intruder in her own home. She nearly felt shy about it, clinging to Richie in their spot between Bev and her brother. As if she'd be unrecognizable without them. The group was passing around stories from the past few months and (Y/n) was trying really hard to pay attention. It was hard to keep up with Bill and Stan as they bounced off of each other, trying to tell a story about practice but it seemed to blur. And toying with Richie's fingers where they rest in her lap seems a little more entertaining than listening to Stan did.

"Oh, and that was the day that I found out that (Y/n) and Richie and she basically tore me a new one." It caught her attention, her head popping up to look at him. "Yeah, well, you wanted to tear my boyfriend apart. So you kinda deserved it." Bill puts his hands up as if to surrender, "You got me there." "No way, what did you say to him?" Bev laughs as she shoves (Y/n)'s arm. She nervously clings to Richie, "Well you know he was yelling at me worried about 'how could I do this again' and how I was going to get hurt again and I was like 'By Richard Tozier?' And I pointed out how many times this fucking fool has gotten in trouble for me and Bill was all 'you got me there' and now we're cool. He's playing it up, really."

"I don't know, Doll. You were cursing and screaming at him, it was pretty loud. Really cute that you felt the need to stand up for me though." "You heard?" She can feel her cheeks heat up as she turns to him. "I'm pretty sure the entire neighborhood heard you, (Y/n), Bill laughs. The girl looks back down to the tangle of fingers in her lap, "On that note, I'm going to get a drink, anybody want one?" "Can you grab me a water?" Bill smiles up at her as she wiggles out of Richie's arms. "Anyone else?" "I want one, but I'll come with," Richie gets up, following her out the door. He didn't actually want a drink, he just wanted to make sure his girlfriend was okay. He grabs a hold of her hand, nearly clinging to it as they make their way into the kitchen.

She's immediately at the fridge, dropping is hand to grab Bill's water and sit it on the counter. "Dollface?" She hums, searching her fridge for god knows what. "Are you okay? You seem out of it today." He walks over before she can respond, wrapping his arms around her from behind, feeling the chill of the fridge hit his face. "I'm okay. I might go lay down though." He frowns, rubbing a hand up and down her arm, "Are you sick, Doll?" She shakes her head, "I just feel like I'm intruding, no one else brought their partners so it's weird." He knows it's not his place to intrude, kissing the top of her head, "Can I join you? I'll play with your hair if you want? Rub your back?" She turns to look at him for a second, "Are you sure? I don't wanna take you away." He shakes his head, "I wanna be with you."

It makes her smile, reaching into the fridge again to grab a Gatorade, "What do you want to drink, baby?" "Oh, I didn't actually want one. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." She smiles, leaning against his chest, "Thank you." "Go ahead upstairs, Doll, I'll take this to Bill and meet you there," he grabs Bill's water as he speaks, heading to the living room as (Y/n) heads up the stairs. "Hey guys, (Y/n) isn't feeling very well so she's going to go lay down. I' going to go lay with her, so I hate to cut this short but," he shrugs, handing Bill his water. "Why do you have to go lay with her? She's a big girl," Stan looks at Richie with his brows raised as if trying to find an ulterior motive. "Well Stan, most people want to know that their partner is okay" his words aren't actively malicious but Bev laughs at it anyway.

"Door open," Bill calls after the boy, trying to hide the smirk that Richie's words made. "William, my dear, my dick has many talents but curing headaches not of them." "Gross," Bill yells back, but Richie can hear him slightly laughing, "I mean it, Tozier, I'm not ready to be an Uncle."

Richie turns the corner entering her room with a smirk which causes her to raise an eyebrow. "What, pray tell, did you say to my brother?" "He told me to keep the door open when I came up here and I so scientifically informed him that sex cannot cure a headache." "Oh, headache excuse, nice! I wish you could make all my excuses," she mumbles, opening her arms as she reaches for him. He shakes his head causing her to frown. "I'm the big spoon or no sale." She huffs turning to face her window with her arms playfully crossed over her chest. Richie however is climbing onto her bed as she fakes her little pout, one arm sliding under her head as the other wraps around her waist. Her hands reach down for his fingers, toying with them again. "What is it with you and my hands?" "I like them," she hums, twisting his class ring absent mindedly, "They're comforting. And big, makes them easy to play with."

It makes him chuckle, "You know what else is big?" He grabs her hips, snatching her back against his own hips. "Oh! Well now you've made it gross, get out of my bed," she pouts pulling away from him. "Wait, no, I'm sorry. Hold my hand again, I take it back," He pulls her back, tucking his face into her hair as he pouts. "Should I?" She giggles, squirming to get comfortable before taking his hand gently. Her hips adjust again, causing him to tighten his grip on them so she holds still. "Behave." "Oh, when have you ever behaved?"

And we walked down the block to my car And I almost brought him up

(Y/n) wasn't the type to go to parties that were hosted by someone she didn't know. But Richie was, enough so that he had her and the whole losers club at a "pre-prom party" whatever the hell that was. She didn't know anyone there outside of her boyfriend, her brother and his friends and it showed as she stood in the kitchen alone, back pressed to the counter as she sipped on a water bottle.

"Hey," she turned to see Stan walking up to her holding a plastic cup. "Hey, Stan," (Y/n) pulls her arms closer staring at him nervously. They hadn't been alone since before their break up, and if she was honest she really didn't want to be now. "So you and Richie are going to prom together huh?" She nods, "Yep, have been since March, like early March." He nods, finishing his drink before turning to her, "He'll never be me you know. He'll never know you the way I do. Once the way he babies you gets annoying you'll be running right back to sneaking around with me. Hell, I won't even make you break up with him for it, that makes it hotter." He's obviously drunk, slurring over every third word. But that doesn't make his words upset her less. "Where's your girlfriend, Stanley. You know, the one you're taking to prom?"

She pushes herself off the counter, on the way into the living room of whoever's house this was. She wanted Richie, she just wants to go home if she was honest, but not without Richie. She tried to stick to the edge, laughing slightly when she finally spotted him, dancing with Bill to "Baby Got Back". "Richie!" She has to yell for him to hear her, but when he does he grabs her no problem, pulling her against his chest and kissing her temple, "Hey there's my baby! What's up?" She frowns, realizing how happy her was, maybe she should just tough it out. "Hey, is everything okay?" He tilts her head to look at him and she smiles. "Yeah just, whenever you're ready to go home, I am." He nods, "We can go home, Bill we're going home!" "Be safe! Use protection!" She buries her face in Richie's shoulder, embarrassed as he walks her to the door. Bill was so wasted.

"Who even throws a pre-prom party?" (Y/n) forces a laugh as they walk out of the house. "Her?" He answers it as if it's the simplest thing in the world. Arms wrapped tightly around her as they walk, swaying slightly due to how drunk Richie truly was. "I see that. It was totally just an excuse to get wasted, right?" He nods, "It worked." And she tries not to change the conversation to what happened in the kitchen. She had already seen that he was willing to get defensive over her and she didn't want to see what drunk Richie would do.

But what Stan said, Richie should know right? Then again, they were both drunk and she had no way of knowing that either would remember it. Her thoughts are cut off by the way that Richie grabs for her hand, tangling their fingers together and leaning on her and she doesn't think she actually cares about Stan. More interested in the boy who would leave a party just because she asked and the way he clings to her. One day he'd have to face it, in a month and a half, Richie has been more of a man than Stan was in four. Twice the man that Stan would ever be. And Richie should know that she thinks that, shouldn't he? Just, not tonight.

"So Bill said that if you want to come stay with me he'll cover for you with your mom." And that one sentence made her drop it, if Bill, even drunk Bill, had shown Richie that he trusted him with her, the Richie already knew he was more of man than Stan. Hell, he probably knew long before that moment. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, we're going to have a sleepover! And we're going to talk about boys; you can only talk about me though, unless you want to talk about other boys I guess. But only if the other boys are hotter than me." She laughs, unlocking his door before kissing his cheek, "There's not hotter boys than you, baby. Even when you're this wasted, I think you're hot." He turns to smile at her, sitting down but keeping his legs out the car so she can't close the door. "You're so nice. Oh! And you can wear one of my shirts which is you know, so hot" he's got a lazy smile on his face, leaning against the seat. She laughs, leaning down to kiss his forehead, "Seeing me in clothes is hot? Here I thought that I've been playing hard to get. Now, finish getting in the car, I need to get you home." He gets in the car, pulling his door closed with a pout as she goes around to her driver's side. The moment she's fully in the car his hand is on her thigh, "I think you're always hot, but I think my clothes would just double it. Because ya know, they're mine and so are you. Not that I own you, I think you could kick my ass, though you could claim you own me if you wanted. That's also hot." She shakes her head, "Okay Richie Baby."

I've been spending the last eight months Thinking all love ever does is break, and burn, and end

"You look so pretty tonight," Richie's voice barely makes it to her ear in the bustling noise of their prom. Even the slow songs were too loud for her. "Richie you've told me that at least three times an hour since you showed up at my house," she smiles up at him, brushing some hair out of his face. "And I'll keep saying it. Purple is so your color, I'm serious, Doll, you look amazing." She smiles, looking up at him, "So do you, Richie. Serious, I'm the luckiest girl here." He leans down, softly kissing her. Her hands left his shoulders to hold the sides of his face to keep him in place. "Hey, Doll?" He pulls back, leaving her to pout up at him.

"Yeah?" "Come with me for a second." She nods, taking his hand and letting him lead her to the direction of the bathroom. It was quieter there, and just the two of them. Just like he'd hoped for. "Is everything okay, Rich?" "Yeah," his voice cracks slightly as he sits down on one of the benches, "Just wanted to talk to you without screaming. It was sorta, important." She nods, making her way to sit beside him "Is everything alright?" He nods, "It's actually probably stupid but uh," he grabs her hand, "Do you remember when we were kids, and I got in a fight over you at a playground. And how from that moment up until the whole, mess that Stan made our dads swore you and I were going to fall in love one day? And we always said it was gross because of cooties and how I was Bill's friend so I couldn't love his sister?" She laughs nervously, shifting slightly in her seat, "Yeah, why?" "Well, I think maybe they were right after all, or at least half right." The nerves are turning into butterflies as he looks at her like that.

"Are you saying what I think you are, Tozier?" He lets out a soft sigh, looking at her as if he's scared of his own answer. "I love you," he can't look away from her, as if he's glued in one place. "Richie?" "Yeah?" His heart begins sinking. Maybe she wasn't over Stan, maybe he pushed too fast? What if he was just a distraction? "I love you too," her hand finds the back of his neck, dragging him closer as if she needs him. And maybe she does. He doesn't stop her, instead pulling her closer as their lips meet, the girl cupping his cheek, a thumb rubbing circles on his cheekbone in a way that makes him melt into her, hand coming up to keep her there. They pull away slowly, breathless and heart-eyed. "I love you," she smiles pecking his lips again, wrapped up in the high of the moment. He pecks her lips, whispering, "I love you too," against them. Too wrapped up in her to care who passes them.

#richie trashmouth #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richard tozier #it movie #it 2017 #losers club x reader #taylor swift lyrics #song fic

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substantial-exposure · 3 months

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In honor of it being Bad Batch Eve, here's a something from the vault that won't be finished and posted for a long LONG time

Aka the S1 finale where Crosshair actually has to talk to his wife for the first time since he joined the Empire. (Angst)

Standing on a platform surrounded by nothing but oceans, the couple stared at each other. It had been the most awkward and tense couple hours of either of their lives and now finally, it boiled down to this.

After escaping the bombing of Tipoca city and surviving nearly drowning in the wreckage, they were lucky to even be having this conversation. Lucky to even be breathing. Crosshairs eyes narrowed in on the last bit of the city that sank into the oceans. His chest felt like it was aching. His home was officially gone.

The voice of a young clone broke the silence. Omega. The girl stared and watched as her home sunk into the abyss. "It's all gone." She said slowly. Her hands that had been balled so tight fell loose at her sides, hanging along with her head in disappointment.

A few moments of silence overcame the platform. "We should leave before the Empires scouts show up" Tech said raising his eyes to survey the group. His eyes landed on the Jedi standing tall. Head held high and every breath deliberately calm. ,

Dasibri had been anxiously gnawing at the inside of her cheek since before they even got to the planet. Knowing that Crosshair would be there, knowing she would have to deal with the confrontation. It was almost too much. She wondered if he'd even be happy to see her, happy to know she's alive. Maybe he wouldn't care about her being a Jedi. He would forget about the order and simply live. However that was a daydream.

Turning around from having her back facing him, she finally looked her husband in the eyes. "Come with us." Dasibri had said. Despite the absolute whirlwind her life had become, she asked for him back. Extending the olive branch and the offering the invitation. The first real glimpse at her forgiveness.

The sun was beginning to rise as it marked the dawn of a new day on Kamino. There was barely anything left, just the last of smoke billowing out of the remnants of a sinking structure. Nothing but smoke and harrowing oceans in every direction for as far as the eye could see.

Crosshairs eyes looked over every part of her, remembering every stray hair, every pore, every curve, and every shadow that shaped her face. After thinking she was dead for so long... it had almost made things easier. That guilt didn't weigh him down. But now, seeing her it was like he couldn't breathe. He'd stared at photographs, listened to voicemails and hologram projections, he had cried and he had mourned. But staring at her now was a different kind of wound. A new type of pain he couldn't handle.

Crosshair looked at her, his dark brown eyes squinted in the sun as his stance remained rigid. He stood against her on the platform, staring her down. "I made my choice. A long time ago, You're asking me to choose between love and a war, Dasibri, you can't expect me to just-"

For the first time in his life, Crosshair witnessed Dasibri lose all patience. Every ounce of it had been stripped from her being since the day the order was given. With her fists balled at her sides and her face hot with anger as she heard him finally say her name, she talked over him. Angry and combative.

"The war is over" she said loudly. She watched him wince. A moment of silence came to pass. Dasibris chest fell and rose quickly as she panted after her little outburst.

Crosshair opened his eyes slightly, taking in the sight of his shaking wife in all her frustration. Never before had he heard it. In all the time he'd known her, he had never heard her raise her voice. He had only realized it now. Not once.

She stalked up to him, hands gripping onto the armor of his chest plates and pulling him closer to her as she verbally tore into him. "You chose me before" she told him bitterly. Her eyes were cold, as cold as he felt. Her anger had simmered slightly. Allowing her voice to lose its volume and thunder. Instead, her voice returned to its normal octave, save for the dissatisfaction laced in her tone. The months of depression escaping as she was faced with its source. "During the war, you chose me anyway." She said, her voice cracking.

Crosshair was about to say something he shouldn't of. And to his surprise, his older brother was there to take care of the situation. Hunter made sure he didn't fuck things up any worse.

"You offered us a chance, Crosshair." Hunter said, shifting to hold his helmet under his arm, finally breathing in the salty air around them. He thought back to when his brother had asked them to join him in the empire, to continue their purpose as soldiers. They had all declined. "This is yours." Hunter emphasized. His eyes wide to stress the situation as he tilted his head slightly to gesture to girl standing a few feet in front of him. He didn't want to watch Crosshair throw it all away. To watch him ruin the only thing he ever cared about... the only thing he ever truly had to himself... it was hard to watch.

It was a low blow, to Crosshairs ego. Did Hunter think he was stupid? His eyes narrowed looking over and past the Jedis shoulder to stare him down. His chest burned as he took a deep inhale. "I made my decision." He told his brother. Trying to keep his eyes forward and straight, looking above the woman standing before him, staring up at him with those pleading grey eyes. He couldn't take it.

"We want different things. But that doesn't mean you have to make yourself an enemy." Hunter warned. The Sergeant watched as his brother rolled his eyes and turned his head to avoid looking at him as well. "See you around, Crosshair." Hunter grumbled. He slipped his helmet back on and turned around back towards the ship. The only thing else on the platform.

"I doubt it." Cross had grumbled under his breath.

Each member of the Batch took their leave. Tech following behind with Echo and Wrecker shortly behind. Leaving only Dasibri and Omega to stare the clone down before their departure.

Dasibri stared at the side of his head. The skin on the side of his head had been badly burned. She wondered if it was from all the adjusting and playing with the chip implanted in his head that the empire kept doing... or maybe it was something else. She had thought that chip to be the soul reason for the sheer bullshit he had put her through. That was up until a few hours ago when she found out he'd apparently had it removed.

She had so many questions for him and knew he'd never give up any of the answers. He was always stubborn like that. As Dasibri squinted and stared at the mess of scar tissue on the side of his head, she felt a hand grab ahold of hers. She looked down and saw a head of blonde hair at her side. She smiled faintly seeing Omega. Dasibri squeezed her hand reassuringly. She looked at the man before her as he finally turned to meet her gaze once more. He looked down.

"Never thought I'd see the day." Dasibri said flatly. She looked him over once more, burning the memory into her mind as she stared at his black armor. She squeezed Omegas hand once again and turned around to go back towards the Marauder. Without another word the two girls went back to the ship and Crosshair turned his back on them.

Dasibri stood on the staircase that lead to the ship. Her foot on the first stair as Omegas hand was yanked from her own. The young girl was running back to Crosshair. Omega stood before him, she thought over her words for a moment before she spoke across the platform to him.

"I still want to thank you, for saving AZ" she said referencing the droid that they had hauled back onto the ship. She looked up at the back of his head, waiting for any kind of response. After seconds of silence and assuming she wouldn't receive one she looked down. "She really loves you you know. Talks about you all the time. And them, they're your brothers and you're my brother..." she stated waiting for him to say anything. He was the only one to ever treat her coldly. The only one who didn't accept her or want her. Even now she was looking for some kind of acceptance from him.

All she received was Crosshair finally turning around, sparing her a glance over his shoulder and three simple words.

"Consider us even."

#star wars #the bad batch #bad batch #star wars fic #crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair my beloved ❤️‍🩹#star wars oc #jedi oc #dasibri taraay #crosshair x oc #angst #fluff

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litfeathers · 8 months

Text

The Fabulous Adventures of Mister Rabbit and Missus Wolf

Here, have some cute parental Witteclaw shenanigans.

Inspired by the legendary @pinkgolfcart and this goddamn masterpiece.

————

Every second that ticked by was pure torture.

Every minute felt like hours.

It was impossible to get comfortable.

Everything was simultaneously too hot and too cold.

And the pain…

Evelyn winced and wiggled in a plush bed, pulling a blanket over her restless body before immediately shoving it back off with a frustrated huff.

She groaned and pulled a cool dishtowel back over her eyes as she tried to stay as still as possible.

“Being pregnant and about to pop is the worst possible time for a migraine. Just…relax…everything is nice and dark…ohhh, that’s better. It doesn’t hurt so long as things are nice and quiet-”

“EVELYN!!! EVELYN, LOOK!!!”

“OH SHIT, OWW OWW OWWWWWWW!” she hissed with a violent twitch.

“…oh, sorry, I’m just excited. Let's try that again, nice and soft this time.”

The enthusiastic voice cleared his throat.

“Evelyn, look!” he whispered.

She winced, slowly removed the dishtowel from her eyes, and glanced at the doorway.

A pair of small wooden carvings were poking their heads around the doorframe, peering in at her with a pair of fangy wooden grins.

“I made a few more toys for the baby!!! Look! This is Mister Rabbit, and this is Missus Wolf!” Caleb announced proudly, poking the upper half of his face into the doorway as he waved around the two carvings of…well…a rabbit and a wolf.

“Adorable,” Evelyn murmured, spinning a quick spell circle to cool off the towel some more before setting it back onto her eyes. “That’s actually quite cute, Caleb.”

“How is the headache?” he asked softly, padding into the room and kneeling by the bed as quietly as he could.

“Monstrous,” Evelyn whispered. “And I’m so uncomfortable. Three days. Only three days left…”

“Oh, Eve,” The bed shifted slightly as Caleb leaned onto the mattress to check on her. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ll be fine,” she murmured. “Stop fussing.”

“Are you sure? Do you need soup? A healer? More blankets? A massage? A book? Some alcohol-free apple blood? A nice-”

“What I need is rest and quiet, dear.”

Caleb frowned, slowly lowering his head to rest his cheek on his arms as he watched his wife for a moment.

“I’m so sorry you’re uncomfortable,” he said, a tiny bit of guilt starting to creep into his voice as he glanced at her round stomach.

“The nature of being with child is being uncomfortable,” Evelyn said with a soft laugh. “I’ll live.”

“Oh. I know, It’s just…”

“What?”

“I have been feeling a bit guilty.”

“What? Why?”

“Because…I’m…sort of…the one who did this to you?” Caleb said with a wince.

“I’m doing this because I WANT to be doing it, you silly loon,” Evelyn whispered. “We both wanted this. Quite badly, might I add. And it will all be worth it when we get to meet her. Now stop fretting! You may keep me company, but…shhhh!”

“Ahh. Sorry. I know I talk a lot. And I know I can be intense. And-”

“Caleb!”

“Oh, right. Sorry!”

After some tossing and turning, Evelyn finally slid into a fitful nap.

Her husband reached out to stroke her cheek as she slept, his eyes shining with utter adoration.

————

Evelyn woke up some time later, so disoriented and out-of-sorts she felt like she had slept for centuries.

But her eager husband practically kicking down the bedroom door immediately reassured her it was indeed still the Deadwardian Era.

“She’s awake! Good evening, sleeping beauty!”

“It’s…ugh…already evening?”

“Well, the sun’s still up, so…good almost evening is more accurate. How do you feel?”

“A lot better, actually. Not one hundred percent, but the worst is gone.”

She wound up and chucked the damp dishtowel across the room.

“Screw it. I’ll get that later,” she said with a big yawn and stretch.

“Oh no you don’t! I’ll get it.”

“…my hero.”

“Are you in too much pain to be hungry?” Caleb asked, tossing the towel over his shoulder. “I’m completely starved!”

“Yes, I think I can manage to eat. But didn’t you have supper already?”

“No, I waited for you!”

“Oh, sweetheart…"

“Don’t worry. I already put on a roast. It will be done in about an hour,” he said proudly. “Hopefully you like it.”

“I’m sure I will. I always do. An hour is perfect. That will give me time to return to the land of the living.”

“Good! And I know exactly what my adorable wife needs while supper cooks!” Caleb said eagerly.

He slid to the bed and leaned in with a slow, devious grin as Evelyn warily glanced up into his looming face.

“Oh, no,” she whispered.

”SHE NEEDS…” Caleb purred, slowly disappearing below the side of the bed.

“Caleb...?”

“She neeeeeds…”

“Caleb, I SWEAR…”

“SHE NEEEEEEDDDDSSSSSS…”

“Caleb, please.”

“She needs SOME EVENING ENTERTAINMENT.”

“…oh no.”

“Oh? It looks like an acting troupe has rolled into town! How fantastic!”

“...for fuck’s sake.”

“And our players are putting on a production of The Fabulous Adventures of Mister Rabbit and Missus Wolf? Even better!”

Evelyn let her head fall back to the pillow and gave the ceiling the most deadpan, completely done stare she had ever given anything in her entire life.

“Just get it over with,” she sighed.

Caleb slowly poked up over the side of the bed, a huge mischievous grin on his face.

He started walking the toys back and forth across Evelyn’s stomach, complete with sound effects and dialogue.

“Tra la la la la la, tra la odelay!” Caleb sang. “This is Mister Rabbit! What shall he do today?”

“Oh no. Not the songs.”

“Wahey Wahoo hullabaloo! And here is Missus Wolf! What will she do?”

And a completely done Evelyn laid there like a dead log, listlessly letting her husband use her whole body as a living stage, her face getting more and more deadpan as the “play” went on.

“…and then the rabbit goes ‘aaaa noo don’t eat me Missus Wolf! I’m an innocent man!’” Caleb wailed in a squeaky falsetto. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“This is my life, I guess,” Evelyn mumbled. “I chose this. I did this to myself.”

“I can tell you’re enjoying it!” Caleb whispered smugly.

The corners of his wife’s lips twitched.

“Ahh! I see that smile! There it is, peeking out at me like the sunshine from the clouds after a week of nothing but rain!” Caleb gasped dramatically, leaning in close as he paraded the toys across her collarbone.

Evelyn groaned and sat up slightly. “Dear, could you just-”

“Oh. Sorry,” Caleb said softly, pulling the toys back. "I didn't mean to annoy you, I just thought-”

“Give me Missus Wolf,” Evelyn said, deep and deadly serious.

Caleb’s face brightened in a wide grin.

“Rowr, I will get you, Mister Rabbit! How dare you, raiding the Mayor’s garden? Villain! Thief! I shall make you pay!” Evelyn growled, waving the wolf at the rabbit. “According to the town charter, page ten, article nine, subsection twenty-five, it clearly states thou shalt not munch on thine neighbor’s greens!”

“You just made that up! There’s no subsection twenty-five!”

“Oh, are we suddenly a lawyer? LOOK EVERYONE, WE HAVE A LAWYER HERE!”

“But…but…but…”

“That does it I’M GOING TO EAT YOU.”

“AA NOOO spare meee,” Caleb squeaked, throwing the back of his hand to his forehead as he fell to the bed next to Evelyn. “I am innocent! INNOCENT, I TELL YOU!”

“RAWWWRRRRR!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

They violently slammed the toys together over and over, giggling and growling in each other’s faces until they were nose-to-nose and showing teeth (and to be honest getting way too into it).

With a final mighty toothy snarl, Evelyn shoved the wolf at the rabbit and pretended to rip it to shreds while Caleb shrieked in pain.

“I win,” she gasped with a satisfied grin. “I don’t think Mister Rabbit survived the disemboweling. But if he did, the beheading surely finished him off.”

Caleb nuzzled her flushed cheek, breathless with laughter.

“Well, that was fun! Would you like a quick walk before supper? Are you up for it?” he huffed. “It looks like there might be a beautiful sunset. Let’s go to the top of the hill to watch it!”

“Alright.”

He held out his hand and gave Evelyn a brilliant smile.

“We’re going to have so much fun playing with her. I can’t wait,” he said softly. “Although…we might need to go a little bit lighter on the outright violence for a while.”

“She’s a Clawthorne. She’ll love it.”

They burst out laughing again

They left the house hand-in-hand, going slow for Evelyn’s sake, fingers entwined and holding on tight like they never wanted to let go.

————

“MUM!!!”

A tiny strawberry blonde witchlet frantically tore down a set of stairs and into a cheerfully cluttered living room, clutching something to her chest.

“MUM! MUUUUUUUMMMMMM I’VE MADE AN AMAZING DISCOVERY! LOOK!” she yelled.

“What have you found, Ava?” Evelyn asked, putting aside a book to smile at her daughter.

“Toys!!! They were in the bottom drawer of my bureau, under the blankets! May I play with them?”

“What?…oh. Let me see them first, please?”

“Here, Mum!” Ava said, handing over two carvings. “Do you know where they came from?”

“Oh, Titan. Yes, I do,” Evelyn said softly, clutching them to her chest before turning to give Ava a watery smile.

“This is Mister Rabbit,” she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly as she placed the toys back into her daughter’s outstretched hands. “And this is Missus Wolf.”

Ava grabbed the carvings, eagerly pouring over and touching every little whittle and painted detail with tiny fingertips.

“I love them!!!” she cooed, laying on her stomach to start parading the wolf and rabbit on the living room rug. “They’re so cute!”

“I’m sure Da would be very happy to know you like them,” Evelyn said softly. “He made them for you before you were born. I looked for them for years. I’m so glad you found them.”

“DA MADE THEM?!”

Ava squealed and clutched the carvings in a hug.

“THEN I LOVE THEM EVEN MORE!!!”

She started playing again with even more gusto.

“May I play with you?” Evelyn asked.

“Yes!!!”

“Now, this is how you play,” Evelyn said, dropping to her knees and gently taking Missus Wolf from her daughter to walk it across the floor. “Grr! Mister Rabbit, I shall make you pay for stealing the Mayor’s prized dragon’s tooth lettuce! I shall make you pay…by EATING YOU!”

The witchlet gasped.

“Ava, you must now protest this injustice and declare your innocence!”

“Nooooo! I’m an innocent man!” Ava wailed, deadly serious. “AA, NOOO, spare meee!”

She glanced up at her mother with a wide gap-toothed grin.

The grin slowly slid off her face.

“Mum? Why are you sad? Did I play Mister Rabbit wrong? I’m sorry.”

“No, sweetheart. You just…you played him perfectly.”

Evelyn scooped Ava up and pecked her on the forehead as the carvings looked on from the floor, their fangy grins just as sharp as they had been when Evelyn had first seen them poking around a doorframe.

“…you played him absolutely perfectly.”

————

I just think it’s important to mention that Caleb was singing some sort of Redwall type nonsense at the start of the play (I’m talking about this sort of thing lmao).

Thanks again for letting me use your comic as inspiration, Lune! I had a lot of fun with this!

#Witteclaw #Calyn #The Owl House #Caleb Wittebane #Evelyn Clawthorne #My Scribbles

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nancypullen · 5 months

Text

Merry Everything and a Happy Whatever

Well, I cam back from Florida with just a couple of days to prepare for the onslaught of Christmas and promptly got sick. The virus that my sister had, some respiratory thing, definitely not a common cold, took me out at the knees. I slogged through the grocery store with my long list (I wore a mask!) and hauled home enough to feed an army. Everyone arrived on the 22nd and I made a dinner of pork carnitas, tortillas, and all the toppings. Rice and beans rounded out the meal and the whole gang was satisfied. The next night was a rotini and meatball bake, extra cheesy. And so it went. I was Typhoid Mary in the kitchen, coughing up a lung, and you'd think spreading disease. Would you believe that not a single person caught it? I'm just now feeling human again and no one else is even sniffling. I have to admit that the Christmas dinner was not my best. I kept forgetting to set timers. The turkey was dry (and I pride myself on juicy roasted birds!), the sweet potato casserole was not quite set, and I left the rolls in too long. I felt like a failure, but everyone ate and no one died.

Christmas was merry, Santa was sure good to all of us - especially a certain little girl. My boys spoil me absolutely rotten, to the point of making me feel guilty. I always cry and act like a doofus because I still see those sweet little boys of mine, and I want them to save their money for themselves. I should be proud that they're both doing so well and are so kind, but I just feel guilt. I'm not worthy! I'm sure a psychologist could have a field day with my thoughts. Anywayyyy, even though I was sick as a dog, it was wonderful to have everyone together. I felt like apologizing for not being more fun. I hate it that Matt flew all the way home and we didn't even play our usual rounds of Song Quiz or go on an adventure. In summary, Christmas was wonderful because my family is wonderful. The Edgewater parents had to go back to work, so we kept Little Miss for a three extra days since she's out of school. She helped me take all of the decorations off the tree (I knew she was dying to get her hands on those ornaments) and we collected all of the Santas, deer, and holiday knick-knacks from around the house. Between the two of us we got Christmas packed away and everything tidied up. Turns out child labor is beneficial. We took her to see Migration and she giggled all the way through. She dressed herself for the movie and I didn't fight it. Better to be overdressed than underdressed, right?

We handed her over yesterday afternoon and I came home and told Mickey that I was takin' to the bed. I don't think I moved for twelve hours. I didn't do much today either. I need to rest up for our big New Year's Eve festivities.

Yeah, I can't say that with a straight face. We have NO plans. I wouldn't go if we did. I don't even have a dinner planned for us. Usually Matt gets to stay through New Year's Eve and I do a buffet of appetizers. We may be eating tuna sandwiches on paper plates. Sounds like I've given up, doesn't it? Lawdy, I'm just tiiired.

Anywho, I survived and thankfully the family seems to have missed my contagious stage. I'd feel really awful if they'd all taken this nasty virus home. Glad it ended with me, good riddance to it. I'm thinking about what my word for 2024 will be and I'm just not sure. Last year I chose the word flourish. I chose it because I was so unhappy here, couldn't seem to make a friend, etc. I was determined to take control and make this my home. I should have chosen a different word. I tried, good grief how I tried. I'm an Army brat, I'm not shy about meeting people or being in new places. I've taken classes, gone to functions, reached out to others, even gone out a couple of times with some local ladies. Apparently I'm still undesirable. I did apply for and finally get a job at the library, so maybe that will help. If nothing else I'll make a little money while the local population rejects me.

Might as well make the best of it. Maybe my word for the new year will be acceptance. It is what it is. I'd rather my word be winner, as in lottery. Did you see that Powerball jackpot? Whew! I'd be outta' here so fast. With that kind of cash I could still see Little Miss every week. Fancy Grancy could jet in for gymnastics practice and dinner. Crossing all my fingers. I'll save one for Denton though.

Maybe that's the cold meds talking. Or not. I've whined my way through this blog post, so I'll end this little pity party. Just wanted to get you all caught up before we hang a new calendar. I'll think about my word for 2024 and get back to you. Anyone else choosing one? I've seen folks opting for simplify, balance, courage, gratitude...in what direction are you hoping to steer your next 365 days? We've passed the winter solstice and we're gaining sunlight every day, let's walk into the sunshine and choose happiness this year. I've always found happiness in small things - a pretty sunset, bird song, little green shoots in the spring. Tomorrow I'm going to get a whole bunch of tulip bulbs (a gift!!) in the ground. I'm planting hope. There's always hope, right? Alright, I'm off to soak in a bubble bath and read the latest Lisa Jewell book. I was on a library waitlist for months and so far it's been worth it. I downloaded it on my new Christmas KIndle. The Pullen men hate it that I'll use the same technology for a decade (my old Kindle worked fine, just didn't hold a charge like it used to). There you have it. It's over. Ladies, we decorated, shopped, wrapped, cooked, and spread joy like chicken pox. The lull between Christmas and the new year celebrations is a welcome relief. Rest if you can, recharge. You've earned it. Sending out loads of love tonight. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

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scratchandplaster · 1 year

Text

Stack The Deck - PART 4

CW: threats, choking, anxiety, stress position, reference to non-con

PART 3 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 5

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Hours had passed, time which gave Elliot enough opportunity to prepare a list of people who had enough reason to hate him. Even though Morris, his trigger-happy captor with too much free time, claimed to not follow any personal vendetta, he couldn't shake off the inkling that this was his fault.

How much more personal could it get? His mind drifted through names and faces, some more detailed than others: James Randall, high school bully turned general contractor just a few towns over. They had some quick and rough encounters during their time together, but nothing more came about it. Or Eve Anderson, who used to sit just two cubicles down from him and was let go by their manager because of her, well, unorthodox bookkeeping.

The last thing he heard about her, whispered among his coworkers, was the rumor that she went into crypto. Mister Harris, loyal customer and enraged by the inflation of gas prices, continually harassing his workplace with angry calls. But none of that was reasonable...

Otherwise, I am going to slit your mother open from her chin down to her fucking-

Neither was this situation. He had to be smart about his actions, or the consequences would be graver than an improper lay-off from a white collar job.

No promise would guarantee his stay to be quick - less likely painless, but he had to at least know the reason for this madness. If he wanted to use this information to his advantage, if he wanted to get out here alive...

Elliot felt a new wave of misery creeping up his stomach, choking him tight from the inside. Registering the now warm fabric of the mattress below, he imagined how eternity would feel like. Just waiting...surrounded by dirt and dubious bodily fluids. Waiting to be gutted in an empty crack house nobody would ever care to search for.

The pressure behind his eyes increased to an excruciating degree, threatening to burst out of him as a fountain of grief. Tears made their way forward. Elliot was too scared to talk, to even move, but his body needed any kind of catharsis; so he cried.

It was silent at first, a sniffle or two making their way out of his throat, hopefully muffled enough not to irritate the man just a few feet away.

Morris had spent long hours playing cards with himself, solitaire, Elliot suspected. Now spread across the dirty wood like a mosaic, the cards connected to each other with a charming precision. Stopping only every few minutes, to look at his phone. His mood never seemed to brighten after that.

A pastime, so he doesn't have to endure me.

At this, he finally broke. All the fear, guilt and stress of the last hours culminated into an unstoppable force, pushing its way through Elliot's body until it ripped his lips apart. Trying his hardest to stop any treacherous sounds, he clenched his jaw tight and pressed himself back down in the filth of the mattress, face now deeply hidden. It didn't change anything. The anxious panting echoed through the living room, making their way to the source of all this terror.

As he slowly shifted in his seat, Morris couldn't hide the feeling of unease any longer. Turning the chair around, he fixated on the shaking figure in front of him.

"Are you done already?" This cold tone didn't do his captive any good, even boosted the uncontrolled motions of his limbs to an unhealthy degree. "Stop that, you look like a-"

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?" Elliot screamed with a sudden anger, so very blinded by fear that all thoughts of torture were pushed aside. A childish part of him screamed at this unfair treatment, and no nausea, cramps or headache could hold it in anymore.

--------

Morris stopped his line of threats in an instant. The quick shock of an icy feeling at the back of his neck, but after a few seconds he pulled himself together. He thanked himself for doing this alone, his partners would have already ripped Elliot apart for this mild tantrum; and also humiliated anyone who would let a hostage address them that way.

"Oh, stop your whining, I'm not even doing anything! You want the gag again?!"

He really shouldn't worry about this sudden blast of desperate resistance. He was perfectly safe, everything was under control. She would answer... They just needed to wait a bit longer-

"No!" the man below finally answered through clenched teeth, "I just want to understand-"

With a hard slam, the chair flew back onto the floor, accompanied by playing cards slipping from their previously neat placing. Everything happened so quickly, none of the men grasped how they ended up like this. Without warning, Morris was on top of him again, both hands enclosing his neck, but not quite squeezing yet.

It was visible how Elliot cursed his loud mouth, the cloud of anger now nearly evaporated and replaced with a somber nothingness. The blank expression, empty eyes staring into Morris´, hid behind smeared red on pale skin.

He thought of who came before, but couldn't find a good reference of character to plan his next step. The younger man didn't belong to his usual clientele. Which meant that the rules weren't established yet, a shortcoming Morris had to account for, if he wasn't busy strangling his captive right now.

He reacted so negatively to threats. Sure, who doesn't, but the greatest part of compliance he got through talking him down in a poised manner. They could scream at each other for the whole day, but empty phrases didn't seem to cut it this time. In any case, he wasn't the usual kind of man trapped in Morris claws, he had to approach this from another perspective.

Ketamine, maybe. If Elliot refused to give him another option, the next snapshot would be of him having a drug induced breakdown on the carpet. He wouldn't overdose him, of course, he wasn't that kind of idiot. Nobody would benefit from that.

With one thumb pressed onto Elliot's larynx, pushing it down against the hard front of his spine, Morris collected himself to correct his rookie mistake:

"I'm going to repeat myself only once, alright? This is not about you. No personal agenda here, so don't make it one."

Small nods shook the drained head up and down; intentionally or not, Elliot continued to hold his breath underneath the weight of his captor, signaling him to continue.

"In a few hours, this will just have been an ugly nightmare for you, but nothing more." Another set of nods underlined the promises of freedom, realistic or not, didn't matter anymore.

"I'm not an animal, so don't treat me like one. If this phone rings," he pointed at the small device on the desk, endlessly looked at in the past hours, "I'll have everything I want. This is all I expect from today."

His fingers let go to rest next to Elliot's head, caging him but not touching any more than he needed to. Raising an eyebrow, Morris waited for another sign of acceptance.

--------

Liar. Liar. Liar.

He was sure these words meant nothing, only trying to lull him into submission. This Morris didn't want him to make noise, to call for help till he got finished off. Elliot would be murdered and not even granted the reason for it. So he just gave in, once again lying flat on the thin piece of foam, not moving besides a light shiver.

"I will be reasonable, if you let me be."

With this final warning, Morris stood up again. Looking down at the drained picture of distress, he grabbed his phone to take a picture. Evidence of the consequence one awaits when screwing him over.

He probably gets off to this, Elliot realized, now regretting his defiance even more. He shunned the thoughts dropping into his mind, that there was the possibility of death only being the second-worst thing that could happen to him here.

His hopeless expression only made Morris shrug worthlessly, pocketing the phone again. Despite his obvious violent tendencies, Elliot couldn't push aside the feeling that the brute searched for a conversation with him. Like he wanted to let it all out, to prove to himself he was being reasonable...

"I'm sending her another one, maybe she thinks the one in the trunk was just a joke, I don't know... This has to be done." He spoke more to himself, breaking the forced eye contact.

So it is just about money, in the end. Draining the last sorry penny out of my parent's bank account.

Wondering how Morris would ever think that his mother takes these threats lightly, he rolled himself into a more comfortable position. His still bound hands continued to tingle with sharp stabs all throughout, adjusting to the new normal.

Even though he finally gave up on fighting, past and future threats practically forcing him into compliance, his captor continued to eye him from time to time.

"You want a deal?" the question floated to him after a few minutes of silence. Elliot refused to imagine what favor Morris would ask of him, he tried to ignore the unsavory thoughts, fostering his anxiety ever so drastic.

"You can play a round of cards with me...you know, to pass the time."

Elliot started to listen again, hoping for some kind of break. Please don't let that be a euphemism. Untroubled, Morris continued:

"I'll untie you for that, and you will stay calm indefinitely. That's the deal, nothing more."

It was irrelevant, if there was a hidden catch to this offer, Elliot failed to gather the effort to care anymore.

"Okay," he whispered, "Please."

"Now that's more like it!" he exclaimed, almost sounding enthusiastic about a card game, as he once again knelt down on the mattress to pull out his knife. Before the blade could separate the cursed binds of tape, he stopped for a second.

"You won't try to pull any stunts, right? I'll stuff you back in the trunk, if I have to."

Or break my bones. Or gag me again. Or gut my mom. Elliot didn't want him to get even more creative, just shaking his head a little.

"I won't do anything, I swear."

With a simple slash, the overbearing pressure in his joints released, first in his shoulders and then further down his arms, as Morris worked his way through the loops of tape at every other point. His long numb hands were last.

Both shoulders finally snapped forward, immediately letting him catch himself in a tight embrace. Somewhere deep down, he could feel the burning soreness of the muscles and ligaments shifting back into position, like returning from the longest stretch in existence.

Feet still tied, he was dragged by the hem of his sweater again; gliding across the carpet floor. This time laying limp as a rag doll.

Make him like you, make him like you.

"Crazy Eights should be a good start for you, to warm up a bit," Morris determined, as he dragged Elliot onto a second chair, just as decrepit as his own.

Being upright again after so many hours spend in the horizontal, he had to fight against the black dots dancing around his field of view. His whole body seemed to come back to reality, piece by piece, hands now gaining new feeling and strength.

Elliot could do this, maybe physical force wasn't the kind of strategy he should have gone for at the start. Struggling to start his line of thought again, his glimpse was stuck on the phone in the thick leather pockets of his now opponent.

Well, he could start with that. His mind started to reel with wild plans to somehow get into possession of Morris' phone, but again, another beating would probably be the price for that kind of audacity.

My phone, he realized through his new-found clarity, I'm missing from today's practice. If I hold out long enough, maybe they can track us down. I just have to buy some time.

Perhaps being obligated to remain level-headed wasn't to his detriment after all.

Morris shuffled the cards quickly, collected and cleaned prior, and started to divide them into two stacks for each player, respectively. He didn't bother to explain the rules again, and Elliot not even dared to ask, too scared of starting another argument.

With the first card turned, Morris laid one in his hand down.

Make him like you, maybe he's fond of pets.

"I have a rabbit at home and-"

"I know, and I don't give a fuck. Your turn."

He forgot to feed Ginkgo, he remembered, digging deep in his mind for information about the previous evening. Fuck, what am I even doing-

"You want the gag?" Annoyed, he looked down at the piece of knotted fabric still hanging around Elliot's neck.

"No!" a quick gasp told him.

"Your turn, then."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2023 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

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slverblood · 3 months

Note

Talk About True Love

I keep putting this off until I feel like my thoughts are coherent, but they're never going to be coherent lmao

True's Love Caress and True Love's Embrace are a matching pair of rings you loot in Reithwin. Despite the light-hearted item descriptions, the true story attached to them is far more grim. It both foreshadows Aylin's situation and, in my opinion, encapsulates a central theme of Act 2.

Reading "Bonded By Love - Husband's Diary" reveals the husband in question married Miranda, a Sharran cleric. She proposed to him on the eve of battle, officiated the ceremony on the spot, and blessed the rings the two would wear. The husband was elated. What he did not know, however, was the true purpose of the rings. As long as they wore the rings, any wound she received would be reflected onto her husband instead. Miranda could survive wicked battles without so much as a scratch. Meanwhile in Reithwin, every single wound appeared on her husband's body. He never knew the source. No one would tell or help him. The House of Healing sent him away. Finally, it killed him.

And, that's what Act 2 is all about: compassion, in the most fucked up sense imaginable. I mean the root word of compassion — compati: to suffer with. I was taught that pati isn't merely "suffer"; it is "torture". Compati is then "tortured with". In English, compassion has connotation of not merely feeling pity for someone. That alone would be sympathy. It is feeling that pity so keenly that you are compelled to action, for it is as if you suffer alongside them and to end their agonies is to end your own.

Act 2 is about the darker aspects of that. I'm trying to think how to word this . . . It's about compassion being weaponized and taken advantage of. It's in the way you're able to talk all of the Thorms in Reithwin into self-destructing by putting yourself into their shoes for a moment, understanding what makes them tick, and turning that against them. It's in the way He Who Was takes Madeline's soul into his body so that she may be judged for her crimes and the way the guilt of protecting herself at the expense of her friends torments her more than anything else. It's in the way the tadpole connects every cultist at Moonrise and beyond on the deepest level, allowing them to share every experience directly, and the way you would be among their ranks were it not for a fluke.

It's in the way everyone tried to comfort Ketheric after Isobel's death, but his pain ran so deep that he shouldered his torment alone, believing no one could be tormented with him. But, it was a torment too great for one person, so he spread it like a blight across the world. He sought to force them into compassion, into compatior, into being tortured with. So he took the one person for whom Isobel was also their entire world, and rather than take comfort in their mutual grief, he caged her in the Shadowfell. He bound her with a curse that forced her to suffer every blow that should ever be visited upon him and ensured she would be tortured eternally as he was. He led hundreds of people to Shar to lose everything in her embrace as he had already lost everything. He covered the land in an all-consuming darkness that would make undead husks of them just as he felt lost in darkness in twisted mimicry of life since his daughter's death. Then he sold his soul to Myrkul to get Isobel back and in turn stole hundreds, perhaps thousands, of souls by infecting them with tadpoles.

And, he is yet another Thorm you have the option to talk into self-destruction. You can approach him with compassion for his story, and he can be touched by it, making the subsequent fights easier. But, you cannot avoid those fights. It's not that compassion came to him too late. It's that he accepted it too late. He believed his pain was so deep none could touch it — and so none could. So focused on wanting others to feel his suffering that he failed to feel theirs, only inflicted more.

#OOC / HOLLY.#dreadgrace #I'm so normal about this act #sorry but for me the game could end here #act 3 ain't got nothin on it

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eveshepherd · 10 months

Text

Name: Evelyn Virginia Margaret Shepherd

Age: Thirty

Preferred Pronouns & Gender: She/her, cis-female

Relationship Status: Married

Previous Job: None

Community Job: Lookout

Reside in: A rundown log cabin in the farmlands— currently trying to make it more livable.

How long have they been in Redwood?: Two months

PINTEREST / PLAYLIST

tldr: eve was born to a young single mother and spent her entire life raised in a doomsday cult. she has never lived a normal life, and believes that the virus is a sign to spread her doctrine and begin cleansing the earth and preparing for the true end.

Biography:

Evelyn was a miracle. Her birth was ordained by a power much greater than just her mother— a girl with a quiet disposition, hands moving up and down the beads of a wooden rosary at all hours. She gave birth to her baby girl, an unblinking infant that did not make a sound. Evelyn does not know any other circumstances of her birth, of the life her mother lead before her. She has learned that if something is not known, it is best to not question it. Information will reveal itself, those who seek too much will find punishment at the righteous hand.

What she does know is that Diedre took her five year old daughter and her suitcase, and began a long journey. An act of blind faith, of rustic gas stations and hitchhiking, moved by something within her soul. Their direction was unclear, the beads of the rosary continued to move as days passed. They would later call it their pilgrimage, once its true purpose was revealed, the word tripping over young Evelyn’s tongue in long syllables.

Maryland was not the intended destination of their journey, but as with all things, one must have faith. They must trust that the woman running the strawberry stand off of a non-descript highway. When the woman saw the rosary and said true faith was so rare. When Evelyn had shyly introduced herself from behind her mother’s skirt, earning an expression of shock before the woman recovered her words, inviting them to come back to her home with her. There was surely a bed for a beleaguered mother and daughter.

It was not until years later that the true reason for their acceptance would become clear. The Eden’s Gate commune had been missing its Eve, searching for the sign of the end of days that was promised to them with each and every morning service. Their Adam, their leader, knew she had been coming, knew the importance of her arrival. While her mother was simply another mouth to feed, another set of hands to garden and clean, Evelyn was special. She was looked after. She was the symbol that the end of all things was near. The daily reminder to be alert and of sober mind so that they may pray, they may survive the coming end.

Though there was guilt and there was shame in her role, she could not escape the fate that grew around her. Pain was a secret language between God and the faithful; Adam's wrath translated it for her. She knew true love, the commune so intertwined around her, reliant on her good nature. Leaving was never an option, waiting became the great task of her life. How could she abandon those who had raised her, even when the burden felt so great she thought she might be the first to break.

When news of the outbreak reached them finally, it was almost a relief. Here was God's answer to the end of the world. They all prayed, waiting for their ascension. But the attack on their commune had not been predicted, it had not been preached, no one knew what to do. A group of holy people, all descended upon by creatures. The newly turned destroyed everything that they had built. Eden fell, Evelyn was locked out of it.

Though she escaped, Calamity Shepard by her side, she does not know if any other members have. She does not know what caused such a violent change in God’s will. A massacre so bloody, the only explanation must have been sin, deep and rooted. It must have festered, spread throughout people she’d thought she’d known. They had been bitten before she could cleanse them, save them, send them to heaven. They had hidden their true nature from her, and now would forever be cursed to wander.

She would prevent such a thing from happening again, the true believers would be found and spared. Those who needed to be saved would be found and given their chance at heaven. Redwood is simply a stop along her journey, another community which must not be overlooked in her journey. God had ordained her mother to deliver her unto the world, and she would deliver souls to heaven all the same.

Headcanons:

Her full name is Evelyn Virginia Margaret, she did not have a last name until she took Cal’s.

As she was raised in Eden’s Gate, Evelyn is particularly skilled with off-the-grid living. She is able to lend a helping hand wherever it is needed, from gardening to general medicine.

Another consequence of this is that she never had a formal education. Although she was given basic schooling, she has a distinct lack of cultural awareness.

She still keeps her mother’s rosary around her neck.

#tfh.intro #*bio #shes...alot

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iliveoffofcoffeeandspite · 1 year

Text

Question for the stars: one

Tiring. Everything was fucking tiring. All Evelyn did was sleep- her routine of being unconscious only being broken up by a bit of eating and drinking. And She wasn´t even the one who did it on her own...Eve always got woken up. Either Bucciarati, Abbacchio or hell, Giorno. The blonde cared more about her than she did about herself---Or about him in general. It was kind of cute. Sometimes, she was just lying there, pretending to be asleep- Evelyn didn´t want to face them in the first place- Why? The girl wanted to be away from this place and yet..She was stuck. Well, stuck in luxury and people who cared about her-There was worse. It wasn´t like she didn´t want to talk to them..But the guilt was eating away at her.

How could she hurt her second family like that?

Hell, not even second family. The only family left. As much as Evelyn loved to deny it, there was no one else. Her biological family was nothing but ruins now.

And how ungrateful was she, actually? Was there no limit to her ego?

Those people cared.

And she couldn´t even do them the favor of telling everyone what was going on in the first place.

She could feel Buciarati´s patience come to an end in those moments, where she pretended to sleep. They talked to her, sometimes.

Giorno wanted his "older sister" back. Bucciarati just wanted to know what was going on. Older sister...Evelyn scoffed. It was cringy, but the fact that the young Boss of Passione didn´t feel any sort of love from his family before (something he desperately yearned for- being clear as day) was incredibly depressing. They all kind of slid into their roles- not that anyone minded. In this world, they only had each other, and no matter how hard it got...No one gave up (well besides Fugo leaving that one time, but no one really held it against him). They didn´t leave each other behind. Playing those roles was a small price ot pay, if at all. It felt natural after a while.

They repeated those questions often. Hoping for an answer if they said it just enough times...? But met with silence, the two usually gave up after about twenty minutes. "ugh..", alone in the room, Eve sat up. It was dark outside. She felt disoriented, thirsty, trapped. The darkness was closing in, it got hard to breathe.

"ah..Shit..", no no. This wasn´t it. Fight through it...You have to do them at least this favor. Tell them what´s going on...With you. Let them help--They want to do this for you. Stop torturing them..

If her stand could speak, would it say things like this?

Funny question.

Her bony hand blindly reached for the lightswitch, slapping the wall two, three times. The noise bouncing around in the room. Click. Finally. Light flooded through the funitured space, chasing the darkness away.

Evelyn was allowed to breathe in again.

She shielded her eyes from the lamp. Even though light was good, this was too much.

After a couple of seconds and a lot of blinking, Evelyn could finally stretch out...And hear her bones crack. Sometimes she wondered if she was made out of glowsticks- they were able to crack horrendously loud and it never really stopped.

Soon, feet hit the cold marble floor in the estate they were living in. She didn´t make the effort to tiptoe around anymore. They wanted to know she was awake so might as well announce it.

Hell, why not?

And honestly, who tiptoed around in their own living space? She payed for her room, for gods sake.

Living room. Next destination, living room. The standuser told herself.

Slowly but surely, Evelyn got closer.

...

>>Narancia?! Mista. Goddamnit, go to sleep already!<<, Fugo.

Fugo and his funny little sleep schedule. If you could even call it that, the teenager rarely slept. Always kept awake through work or his own regrets, troubles or whatever was plaguing his mind at the minute. Fugo, the brilliant strategist, too smart for his own good. Fugo, the right hand of Bucciarati. Fugo, who always seemed to hold onto logic, no matter how bad it got or no matter how he felt. It seemed...suffocating at times.

Fugo, who was strong enough on his own. Fugo, who was strong enough to make decisions and not let himself get pulled into shenanigans. Like betrayal. perhaps.

Fugo, the one who left, the one who Eve was glad to know he had. It would be terrible if anything happened to him at that time.

Fugo, the one who was probably next in line to be come Capo.

And lastly, Fugo who always seemed to hold onto his mistakes, even if others forgave him. The definition of an overthinker.

But still a friend who she could rely on. No matter how annoying she got or how annoyed he was of her. Someone she could trust.

She didn´t want to lose him.

>> Evelyn...I didn´t know you were awake. I... <<

#Pannacotta Fugo #OC #OC fic #Vento Aureo #Jojos Bizarre Adventure #jjba 5 #Bruno Bucciarati #Bruno Buccellati #Leone Abbachio #Narancia Ghirga #Guido Mista #Giorno Giovanna

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awalkthroughstellis · 10 months

Text

Stroke Of Midnight

Warnings: Spoilers for Luke’s SR card “A Star in the Palm”, sexual tension, spicy ending

Summary: New Years Eve shouldn’t be celebrated alone! Luke and Robin decide to visit the owner of a bar, only to discover he’s in trouble. What a way to end of the year then with a case - and wrapped up in the arms of a loved one.

The massive digital clock on the wall was moving way too slow, much so that I was bouncing on my heels as if doing so would make it go faster. The lobby was quiet, though it was expected at such a late hour. Only a few other people were waiting for loved ones, and unlike me who was bursting with excited energy, they were sitting in chairs looking as though they would fall asleep any minute.

Luke’s plane would be landing soon and I was going to be the first to greet him. Rosa wanted to come but something came up at the firm so she had to work, but said she would call once the problem was settled.

A few days ago, Luke received a sudden notice to return to the capital. I knew it was something with the Bureau so I didn’t push for details since it was classified, but the timing was awful with New Years just around the corner. Luckily, he was gonna make it home to celebrate. Although it was our second New Years together it was our first one in Stellis, one to be commemorated.

My phone buzzed, a text from Rosa.

Rosa: Did the plane land yet?

Me: No. It’s taking it’s sweet time. I wanna see him so bad.

Rosa: How much longer?

Me: Board says 15 more minutes of torture.

“You’re looking at the wrong plane, Lovebug.”

I gasped, nearly dropping my phone in shock. My neck turned, eyes meeting bright pools of coral. A high-pitched squeal escaped my lips, body turning on its own and launching into his embrace. Luke caught me easily, the warm and strong arms I missed so much wrapping around my back and holding me tightly. I nuzzled my face into his neck and took in a big breath, filling my nose with his scent. He smelled like wood and leather, a common smell around the antique shop. Despite all the days he’s been away, the smell of home clung to him as tightly as I was.

Luke patted my back. “I love the enthusiastic greeting, but I can’t breathe.”

I forced my arms to relax, pulling back just enough to giggle against his lips. “Sorry. Welcome home, Luke.”

He hummed, closing the distance between our lips for a quick kiss. “I’m glad to be home. You didn’t have to pick me up, you know. You could have stayed home, warm and cozy and fast asleep.”

“I haven’t been warm or cozy or sleeping well since you left. The bed’s too big without you. The room’s been too quiet.” I covered my yawn.

An expression of guilt appeared on his face. “I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, standing on the tips of my toes to kiss his cheek. “It’s not your fault. Work is work, and I’m proud of you and all you do. The nights were lonely but I survived. Besides, I knew you would be back.” I rubbed his arms. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

The ride felt long. With how smoothly the taxi was travelling combined with the comfort of my head resting on Luke’s shoulder, his thumb making gentle circles on the back of my hand, my eyelids were getting heavier by the second. Just as I was about to fall asleep, it was over. Luke paid the driver and helped my tired self out of the car, through the antique shop and his office before finally reaching our apartment on the third floor.

I yawned again, the biggest one yet as I slid off my jacket. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it to bed.”

Taking my coat, Luke hung it in the closet before scooping me into his arms. “I got you.”

It was impossible to keep my eyes open any longer. Luke was careful as he carried me to the room, gentle as he set me down on the bed. In my half asleep state I struggled to change clothes, much so that Luke had to help me button my night shirt.

“Sorry.” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes as he popped the last button into place. “You’re exhausted too.”

“It’s okay. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my girl to struggle after she was kind enough to pick me up?”

He kissed the top of my head as he stood up, moving to turn off the light. I hauled my legs up onto the mattress and let myself fall back onto the pillow. I almost didn’t have the energy to turn onto my side, but the desire to be held by Luke throughout the night fuelled my willpower.

The other side of the bed dipped, an arm snaked around my waist and pulled my figure closer until a chest and stomach were pressed against my back. His warmth was better then the blanket itself and I couldn’t help but snuggle further into him.

Luke’s lips softly touched the side of my neck. “Sleep well, Robin.”

The only response I could manage was a hum.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Enemy on your left!”

“What? Where? I can’t see- AH!”

I smiled and shook my head, emptying the bag of tortilla chips into a bowl. The TV in the other room roared with gunfire, amped up voices commentating and shouting warnings every so often. While our original New Years plans were supposed to be more outdoors, they were changed to make it more relaxing for Luke. He did just come back from a work trip, after all.

Balancing the chips in one hand and jar of salsa in the other I left the kitchen and joined the others in the living room. Luke was lounging on his massive bean bag chair while Rosa took one end of the couch, each had a controller in hand, rapidly clicking away at the buttons.

“You winning?” I asked, setting the bowls on the coffee table.

“Barely.” Rosa said, shooting down an enemy. “I don’t remember this game being so hard.”

Watching the split screen, I dipped a chip into the salsa and ate it. Fighting and shooting type games weren’t my favourite to play but I didn’t mind watching them, especially when Luke was playing. It was well worth listening to gunshots for an hour if it meant I got to spend time with him.

A bright red ‘GAME OVER’ popped up on Rosa’s half of the screen. “Darn it. I died.”

Tossing the controller onto the couch, she reached for a chip.

I turned to my boyfriend. “Luke, you want a chip?”

“Yes please, baby.” He replied, eyes never leaving the TV.

Scooping a decent amount of salsa onto a chip, I brought it to his lips. Luke leaned over and took it between his teeth, smiling happily as he chewed. One of his hands let go of the controller, arm lifting to create a space - an invitation. I giggled and sat sideways on his lap, leaning against his chest. The open arm closed around me, gripping the controller again and mashing buttons.

“Do you want to play, Robin?” Rosa asked, holding her controller out to me.

I shook my head. “I’m content here.”

The friends played for a few more rounds before Rosa had to leave to get ready for a work party. She felt awful not spending Luke’s first New Years back home with him but she was a big participant in the planning and preparation for the event. Of course, Luke didn’t hold any ill feelings and was very supportive.

While he saw her out, I dug through his box of games for something easier we could play together. He had a pretty big collection so there were several small boxes worth, and as I went through them, found one that didn’t belong in the pile. One particular box looked rather plain, but upon lifting the lid, discovered a bottle of alcohol I completely forgot existed. ‘It’s not over till it’s over’ was written on the label with beautiful handwriting and was signed by ‘Bar • L’.

Sensing Luke’s return, I turned to him and held up the bottle. “Look what I found.”

“That brings back memories.” He said, walking up beside me. There was so little distance between us that I could feel his body heat. “It’s been a while since I went to visit.”

“This is that bar you were working a case at when we first got to Stellis, right? Why don’t we go visit tonight?”

“Are you sure? You hate the smell of alcohol.”

I set the bottle back in its box and turned to face him. “I do, but I can tolerate it. Besides, the owner was good to you. I wanna meet him.”

Luke smiled. “Okay. Let’s get ready, then.”

~~~~~~~~~~

We arrived at the bar minutes after it opened, the silver bell above the door ringing as we stepped inside. Very few customers were inside, so few that the place was practically silent. An older man, somewhere in his early to mid forties stood behind the counter, wiping the wood down with a cloth.

The man looked up as we approached, a wide grin appearing on his face. “Well, if it isn’t Luke. Welcome back.”

“Hi, Mr. Cole.” Luke greeted, holding a stool steady as I climbed onto it. “How have you been?”

“Same old, same old. Business is as strong as ever.” Mr. Cole’s kind eyes turned to me. “You must be Robin. Luke’s talked about you so much I feel as though we’ve already met.”

My boyfriend’s face turned red. “Mr. Cole…”

I laughed and reached out to shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet you. Thank for you looking out for Luke during his time here.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. Matter of fact, it was the ‘detective bartender’ that looked out for the customers better then I could. The regulars will be thrilled to see you again.”

“Detective bartender?” I asked, head turning to look at Luke. “You never told me about that.”

Luke shrugged. “It’s nothing exciting. It’s just a nickname the patrons gave me for picking up small cases during my time here, that’s all.”

Mr. Cole waved him off. “Always so modest. You see Miss, the name was born when Luke solved a customer’s problems within the time it took him to make a single drink.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. “Sounds just like my Luke.”

The bartender slid a menu across the counter. “Care for a drink? The right panel is all non-alcoholic.”

I was about to ask how he knew I couldn’t drink, but that must have been something else Luke shared with him. A small part of me felt a little shy about it, but for the most part, was happy Luke talked to others about me. I knew he would only ever say good things.

I looked at Luke. “Any recommendations?”

He leaned closer, peering at the menu. “You’ll like the summer fruit. It’s got a little tang to it but it’s not too strong.”

Smiling, I looked at Mr. Cole. “I’ll take a summer fruit then.”

He nodded and got to work. It didn’t take long at all, and before so knew it, a tall glass with a blend of orange and red was placed in front of me. A slice of orange was floating on top of the drink, a tiny umbrella leaning against the edge with a cherry on its stem.

The drink was delicious. Mango and watermelon were the dominant flavours but a hint of pineapple was in there also. None of the flavours were too overpowering and the consistency was a little thicker then juice.

“Oh wow.” I said, setting the glass back on the counter. “That’s incredible. You’re really good at this, Mr. Cole.”

The man smiled. “Lots and lots of practice. It’s a shame Luke never brought you around while he was bartending - he makes them really well, too.”

The bell on the door rang and Mr. Cole excused himself from the counter.

I took another sip of the drink. “I should have come around when you were working here. I would have loved to see you behind the counter.”

Luke chuckled, chestnut hair shifting as he shook his head. “It really wasn’t anything exciting to watch. Besides, I wouldn’t expect you to hang around a place you can’t enjoy just because I’m there. Today I’m also a customer so I can keep you company, but back then, I was at everyone’s beck and call.”

“That’s true.” Smirking, I gave him a playful look. “I bet you looked dashing in uniform, though.”

His cheeks flared. “That’s-”

“Don’t ever call me again!” A voice shouted behind me.

I jumped, Luke’s hand shooting out to support my back so I didn’t tip the stool over. Looking back my eyes found Mr. Cole, shaking his head while shoving his phone back into his pocket. Whatever conversation he had, it left him displeased.

“Sorry about that.” Mr. Cole forced a smile as he stepped back behind the bar.

“Are you in trouble?” Luke asked, resting his elbows on the counter.

“It was just a harassment call. Nothing to concern yourselves over.”

“You’re not the type to react like that over a harassment call. What’s going on?”

Mr. Cole sighed, then started to explain. “A while back I loaned money to someone. They sighed a loan slip but when I went to collected what I’m owed, he claimed to never have borrowed from me. I sued but nothing came out of the investigation - it appears he’s learned how to write with the opposite hand. He was a lefty when he was younger.”

He passed a file over to Luke, who began to read it over with a stern, determined look on his face. As curious as I was I stayed out of it - I wouldn’t understand most of it, anyway.

Mr. Cole sighed. “Honestly, it wasn’t that much money. It’ll be a loss but not a damaging one.”

“It sounds like you’re giving up.” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not a detective or anything, but Mr. Cole, if you let this go who knows how many others he’ll target next?”

“Robin’s right.” Luke said, closing the file. “I’m the detective bartender for a reason. I’ll have the evidence you need by midnight.”

~~~~~~~~~~

HOT&CLUB was very different then Mr. Cole’s place. While Bar•L felt classy and quiet, HOT&CLUB had a bright neon sign and music so loud I could hear it clearly from outside the front door. Aydan Jimenez, the man we were looking for, was known to frequent this location.

“What’s the plan?” I asked, looking up at the man holding my hand.

Luke took a moment to think. “Aydan must have a big ego to call Mr. Cole and taunt him like that. He seems rather familiar with bars so I’m betting he knows a thing or two about common games. I’ll challenge him to a match of darts or billiards, and if he’s desperate enough to win, he’ll likely swap dominate hands.”

“That sounds great, but do you think he’ll accept? He just figured out Mr. Cole’s other detective was on his trail, and even though the deadline is in a few hours he must still have his guard up.” I paused. “Let me be the bait.”

“No.” He shot the idea down immediately.

“I’ll have a better chance luring him into a trap.” Trying to lighten the mood, I stepped in front of him and attempted to tease. “What? Am I not pretty enough?”

Luke shook his head, expression serious. He wasn’t paying my comment any mind. “You’re beautiful, Robin. Any guy in there is going to have a tough time keeping their eyes off you.” Lifting our intertwined hands, he pressed the back of mine against his chest. “I don’t want you to put yourself in an uncomfortable position. Not for me, not for Mr. Cole, not for anyone.”

I couldn’t help but soften my gaze. “I know, and I would never offer to do something like this if I didn’t trust you. I know you’ll intervene if it gets out of hand, and Mr. Cole has been so kind to someone I love so much. I want to help him. I can do this, Luke.”

He sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. “Don’t go anywhere secluded with him, and don’t drink anything you’re given. You’ll be in my line of sight the entire time. I promise.”

Smiling, I stood on the tips of my toes and kissed his cheek in gratitude. We headed inside and started looking around for Aydan, who Luke easily picked out from the row of people sitting around the bar. He was off to one side, a few empty seats between him and the other customers. It was so busy that he didn’t notice us enter.

Luke and I split ways, and as I approached the target, put on my best mask and pretended to be nervous. I slid into the seat next to him, pretended to look around for the bartender before glancing up at the massive menu hanging between the tall shelves of alcohol.

“First time in a bar?” A voice asked.

My head turned, eyes meeting Aydan’s. He had a thin build, short hair and eyes so full of pride it made me feel worthless just looking into them.

I forced a small smile. “Is it that obvious?” Pushing the performance further, I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear as if I were shy. “My friend bailed and it seemed like a waste to go home after coming all the way here, so…”

“Sounds to me like you need better friends. How could anyone leave such a gorgeous woman all on her own? And in a place like this no less.” He flashed a smile. “What’s your name?”

“Marie.” I said, giving him my middle name instead of my first.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marie. I’m Aydan.”

Before I could register what was going on, he lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. My eyes slightly widened and I had to resist the urge to turn my head and look at Luke. As minor as the display was, I felt so, so guilty.

Forcing a giggle, I pulled my hand back and held it to my chest, discreetly trying to wipe off the feel of his lips. “I don’t suppose you’d know anything about the games here, would you? My friend was going to teach me how to play, but she’s not here, so…”

Aydan puffed out his chest proudly. “As a matter of fact, I know my way well around the art of darts. I normally charge for lessons but for you, I’ll make it free.”

“That’s so sweet. Thank you.”

Aydan got off the stool and lead me to the back of the bar where a dart board and two billiards tables were set up. A group of friends were playing pool on the table furthest from the dartboard. Just as we got there Aydan stepped away, and when he returned, was holding a glass of what looked like iced tea - though the colour was slightly off.

“I realized you never did end up ordering. One iced tea, on me.” He said, holding it out to me.

“Oh.” I said, trying to find a believable excuse to reject it. “That’s very kind of you, but-”

“Long Island iced tea?” A familiar voiced asked. “You did ask the lady if she drank before ordering for her, didn’t you?”

I mentally sighed in relief as Luke approached. His presence instantly made me calmer, the stress of acting easing a little.

Aydan clicked his tongue and stepped back, setting the glass on the edge of the empty pool table next to us. “You trying to start something, pal?”

Luke chuckled lightheartedly. “Not at all. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a bar. It’s normal to hit on pretty girls here. While your method is to strike when they’re tipsy, mine,” He looked at me just then, the smile he wore a rebellious one. “Is to charm them off their feet.”

Under that coral gaze, my mind went blank. In the blink of an eye my calm, sweet Luke has turned into someone I almost didn’t recognize. The aura he put off was confident with a hint of danger, the tone of his voice drew me in and made my heart skip beats every time he spoke. The boy next door gone bad… that’s what this felt like.

Luke smoothly slipped the trio of red darts from my grasp, thumb running along the back of my hand as he did so. The contact left my skin warm and tingling, and the way he held my gaze as he spun one of the darts on his fingertip ignited embers in the pit of my stomach. An urge was starting to arise and I had to use all my power to ignore it.

Finally breaking eye contact with me, Luke turned to Aydan. “What do you say? Wanna go for a round?”

The target snickered. “501, double in and out.”

“Fine.” Seeming to lose interest in Aydan, my own boyfriend turned his attention to hitting on me instead. “Hey beautiful, do you know how scores are kept in darts?”

The compliment had my cheeks burning, but I couldn’t resist flirting back. Why waste this golden opportunity? Besides, if it bruised Aydan’s ego and increased the chances of him slipping up, it was a smart move.

Shifting my weight to one leg and letting my hip lean into the side of the pool table, I bit my lower lip and shook my head. “Will you explain it to me?”

Luke’s eyes flickered to my lips, grin growing. He was great at staying in character. “The board has twenty segments. The numbers around the board give different points from one through twenty. There’s two rings on the board, one being a double area and the other is treble.”

“So, hitting a double gives double points and landing on treble gives triple, right?”

“You catch on quick.”

Giggling, I casually leaned in a little closer. “What does ‘501’ and ‘double in and out’ mean?”

“Double in and out’ means a player can only start scoring after hitting a double, and that player can only win by hitting a double. ‘501’ is the score each player starts with, and it’s deduced as they throw darts. There’s twenty rounds in a match. Each player is allowed three darts per round. First to zero wins.”

Aydan cut in just then. From how tightly his fists were balled, his patience must be wearing thin. “You know, twenty rounds is a long time for someone so lovely to wait. Three rounds will suffice.”

“Only three?” I asked, pretending to sound surprised. “Is it possible to win with only nine darts?”

Aydan winked and stepped up to the throwing line. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’ll show you just how many ways I can blow your mind.”

I wasn’t even touching Luke yet I could sense how tense he was. Whether it was the shorter round time or Aydan’s flirting that was upsetting him, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. If I had to make a bet on it, I would put my money down on the flirting. We had a dartboard at home as one of Luke’s habits was throwing darts when he had a lot on his mind. He’s a great shot and there was not a single doubt in my mind that he would lose.

A loud whistle snapped me from my thoughts. “Eyes on me, beautiful.”

Those words, ones I heard often on intimate nights, had my body so hot steam was practically rising from my skin. My heart pounded at the hint of aggression hidden in Luke’s eyes, an emotion I’ve rarely if ever seen in them before. My voice was robbed from me, fingers gripping the edge of the pool table so hard my nails were probably leaving scratches on the wood.

Luke chuckled. “That’s it. Don’t look away.”

‘You’re in public, you’re in public, you’re in public.’ I repeated this mantra over and over as Luke made his shots, nailing each and every section he said he would hit.

The cocky look on Aydan’s face vanished as the last dart hit the board. He huffed and flung his batch of darts into the air, catching them in his left hand as he approached the board again. I was still so flustered that I almost forgot what we came here for, but luckily, remembered just in time to pull out my phone and secretly record Aydan’s throws. Just as we thought, he was doing so much better with his left.

The game ended in a tie but with the evidence collected, it was a win. I shut my camera off and stuffed it back into my pocket, trying to think of an excuse to leave.

Aydan looked my way just then. “Beautiful Marie, let me guess: you’re going to leave now and tell the old man to submit his appeal, hmm?”

I froze. When did he figure it out?

The target waved his phone in the air tauntingly. “It’s 12:10. The deadline’s passed. Looks like I win.”

Luke laughed, setting his dart back in the holder where they belonged. “Some bars don’t have clocks because they want customers to forget about the time while they’re here. That means you’ll have to rely on your phone, but phones are easy to hack into.”

Aydan’s screen suddenly went dark, and when it lit up again, the time read 11:30 instead.

The man clutched his phone, the vein in his forehead bugling so much I thought it was going to explode. “You-!”

I gasped as he rushed towards Luke. Before I could even blink it was over - Aydan went flying back a few feet before landing hard on his back.

“Luke!” I exclaimed, rushing to his side.

“I’m okay.” He quickly reassured, placing a hand on my cheek, caressing my skin with his thumb. “It’s time to go.”

Pulling me closer, he draped his arm over my shoulders and guided me out of the bar. He called Mr. Cole on the way out to remind him to apply for appeal before time ran out.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, stopping him in the middle of the sidewalk. “He didn’t hurt you?”

Luke shook his head. “Not even a scratch. I have combat training, remember?”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I looked down at my boots. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” The Luke I knew was back in full force, cupping my cheeks in his hands and titling my head up. “You did great in there.”

“But it hurt you to watch, didn’t it?” Placing my hands on his, I nuzzled into his left palm. “I was trying so hard not to cringe when Aydan got close, or when he made a comment, but with you, I didn’t have to act. I felt safe.”

His lips touched my forehead, lingering there for a short while. “I know. You may have fooled Aydan but you’re not good enough of an actor to trick me. I know where your heart lies.”

A loud pop sounded, the sky above lighting up with a stream of bright colours. Firework after firework exploded in the sky, all different shapes and sizes.

“Midnight.” I whispered, smiling up at the sky.

Luke let my face go, hands finding my waist instead. “So much for celebrating at Bar•L.”

“I don’t mind. This is great as it is.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Happy New Year, Luke. I wish you another happy, healthy year.”

“I wish the same for you.” He dipped his head down. “Can I have a kiss?”

Giggling, I did as he asked and pressed my lips to his.

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time we got back home it was just after 2 AM. We stopped by Bar•L again to hand the video footage over to Mr. Cole, who was extremely grateful for Luke’s help. The street we lived on was rather quiet tonight, no sign of a party on the entire block.

“You know, it doesn’t even feel that late.” I said, kicking off my boots.

Luke came up behind me just as I unzipped my coat, sliding it off my shoulders and hanging it on the hook next to the door. “So, you’re not tired?”

“Not at all, strangely.”

Humming, he came up behind me a second time and wrapped his arms around my waist, gently pulling my back against his chest and swaying back and forth with me softly.

“What about you? Are you ready for bed?” I asked, letting my weight fall against him. He supported me effortlessly.

“Not just yet.” His lips pressed against the skin just below my ear. “I wanna spend some more time with you.”

“What do you wanna do? We can watch a movie, or play a ga- Luke.”

My eyes fell shut as his kisses slowly trailed further down my neck. I subconsciously titled my head to the side, giving him more room to work as his hold on me tightened. Each touch of his lips left a lingering heat behind, one that seeped beneath my skin, awakening desires I had to put to bed earlier.

“Luke.” I breathed his name again, back trying to arch as he reached the juncture between my neck and shoulder.

“Do you have any idea how that guy was looking at you?” He asked, voice quiet as his fingers snuck beneath the hem of my shirt, drawing slow circles on my stomach.

I moaned, body pushing into him further to feel more. His touch, his voice, the way his breath tickled my hot skin as he spoke, it was all so much I could barely think straight.

“He was looking at you as if you were nothing more then a toy. You’re more then that, and any hands that touch you should be handling with extreme care.”

If I stayed in these clothes for a second longer, I was gonna overheat. “Luke!”

“I know.” He kissed my shoulder. “Turn around.”

I did, and the second I was facing him, jumped and hooked my legs around his waist, arms looping around his neck. Luke supported my thighs, lips locked together as he carried me across the third floor and into the bedroom.

#tears of themis #x oc #tot luke #luke pearce

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