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wannab-urs · 28 days

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Something in the Orange

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC!Sonya

Summary: Something in the orange tells me you’re never coming home.

Warnings: Sonya is Sarah’s mom, bittersweet ending - we all know Sarah’s mom wasn’t there in the game/show okay? Symptoms of Postpartum Depression, not diagnosed or treated. Joel calls her Sunny, Sonya does not want to be a mom, ANGST, smut but it’s in the past, mentions of separation and divorce, excessive drinking, intervention moment, song fic kind of? WC: 3.7k

A/N: I can’t believe I not only had a Joel idea, but then actually wrote it. Thanks to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @atinylittlepain for listening to me scream about it all day and screaming back at me. And thanks to @dancingtotuyo/@catchallfangirl for editing for me <3. Fic based largely on the song by the same name.

Joel Miller Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

It'll be fine by dusk light I'm telling you, baby These things eat at your bones and drive your young mind crazy But when you place your head between my collar and jaw I don't know much but there's no weight at all

Sonya is curled up in bed, on top of the comforter, trying not to fall asleep before Joel gets home. He’s been pulling double shifts at the factory to pay for all the expenses of having a baby. A baby she didn’t want.

Well that’s not quite true. A baby she didn’t plan on having, that she had fallen in love with the idea of and decided to keep. She had been excited to be a mom, if a bit terrified, but who wasn’t? She thought that with Joel by her side, they could do anything. But having a baby has caused her nothing but grief.

She knows she’s supposed to love her child more than anything on the planet and that makes her feel broken, like she’s failing at this woman thing, this mother thing. She cares for Sarah, of course she loves her, cherishes her, or whatever. She does her duties as a mother and it fucking sucks. She just wants to go back to how it used to be with Joel, before the baby. Before he started pulling double shifts. Before she was nothing more than a wife and mother.

She hears the front door open, the shuffle of Joel taking off his boots by the door, the clatter of him in the kitchen, heating up the plate of food you left for him. You lie in bed and listen to him clean his plate and put it in the sink – not the dishwasher – and you sigh.

He goes in to check on Sarah before he comes to your room, and you feel a bit jealous. You used to be the first person he kissed when he got home. You used to have dinner together every night. He used to come home and dance with you, make love to you, spend real time with you. But now, he comes home and eats and goes to bed. And it’s all because of her. For her.

Sarah, despite only getting to see him at the occasional midnight feeding and on weekends, has taken to him wonderfully. What she’s really jealous of is how easy it is for Joel to love Sarah. He doesn’t seem to mind getting up after a 16 hour shift to feed her or change her diaper while she feels put upon every time she has to stop cleaning or cooking or watching tv to care for her. He’s all smiles any time they’re in a room together while she wears a permanently exhausted expression.

And Sonya doesn’t get any of those smiles from him anymore. Only his brows pinched in the middle, furrowing over his eyes, an exasperated “Sunny, I can’t,” when she begs him to come home early and help with the dishes, help take care of their daughter. “I’m helping the only way I know how, Sunny. I’m making sure we can pay our bills and give Sarah the best life she can have.”

“What about my life? What about me?”

“You’re her mother, Sonya. She is your life now. Or she should be.”

That had been a nasty fight. He practically accused her of not caring about Sarah. And that just wasn’t true. She may not feel that bone deep motherly love she’s supposed to feel, but she does love Sarah. She is so beautiful. She has Joel’s eyes and her nose, Joel’s smile and her hair. She’s a perfect little combination of both of them, and she knows she should feel more strongly for her. It’s like there’s a wall built up around her heart that won’t let Sarah all the way in. Unfortunately, it won’t let Joel in either.

Joel comes in and sits on the bed. You sit up beside him, legs dangling over the edge.

“I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Can’t what?”

“Be stuck in this house all day taking care of a helpless child and cooking and cleaning for a man who’s never even here anymore.”

“It’ll all be fine in the mornin’, Sunshine. Just a rough night.”

“It’s not just tonight, Joel. Why don’t you ever listen to me? I wasn’t meant for this. I don’t know how to be a mom or a housewife.”

Joel pulls her legs over his lap from where they’re dangling off the bed. He tucks her face into his neck and runs a soothing hand over her back.

“I am listenin’, baby. I don’t know how to be a dad anymore than you know how to be a mom. But we’re figuring it out together, huh? I know you’re scared, but I’m right here with you. Ain’t goin’ nowhere without you, pretty girl.”

He doesn’t get it – could never get it. It’s not being a mother that scares her, it’s being trapped. She can’t escape the housework and the baby needing all her attention all the time. Joel can’t go back to working one shift a day unless they want to lose the house, but she can’t stand being apart from him for so many hours of the day.

“No, Joel, I can’t do it. I can’t,” she’s crying now.

She’d never wanted kids. Never wanted to be a stay at home mom. Going anywhere with a six month old baby is a nightmare. She’s practically entombed in this house.

She sobs into Joel’s neck, her own tears and snot smearing on his skin and back onto hers. She doesn’t want to leave him. Not when he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her. She loves him so much, but it doesn’t feel like that love is enough to keep her tied down as she is.

The separation and the stress of a new baby is driving a wedge between them, a cavern so wide she could never cross it. She thinks back to three summers ago. She was newly graduated from high school, Joel having graduated the year before, and they decided to drive out to the lake and celebrate. She sat in the passenger seat, bare feet on the dash, backseat stacked with blankets and pillows and a cooler full of beer.

They swam all day and then in the evening, she read a book while Joel cooked burgers on the camp stove. They ate and talked and laughed and kissed. When the sun started to go down, they filled the truck bed with the blankets and pillows and laid down to watch the sunset. Joel had kissed her fiercely as the sun dipped below the horizon. He slid his big palms under her shirt and tossed it to the side. She had kissed down his neck while they both scrambled to get undressed. He was inside her before she even had her jeans kicked off her legs, whispering in her ear about how beautiful she was, how good she felt. He kissed her as hard as he could as he dropped a hand to her clit, driving her closer to coming. His tongue tangled with hers as she came with a cry he smothered with his lips, swallowing it down his throat and muffling his own groan as he came inside her. She loved him more than anything in the world at that moment.

He had been everything to her. He was still everything to her. And now Sarah was supposed to be everything to them. But where did that leave them with each other? They were stupid kids, in love with each other and with life. She never expected that having a child with him would ruin everything. She doesn’t want to leave him, she really doesn’t. She’s terrified of being without him.

“I have to go, Joel.”

“Let's talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

She curls up on the bed, Joel folded around her in that perfect way he fits with her, and cries herself to sleep while he snores in her ear.

Sarah starts crying at about 2 am and Joel gets up to feed her. She hears him talking softly to her and her heart cracks. This is going to be the hardest thing she’s ever done.

And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't 'Cause if I say I miss you I know that you won't But I miss you in the mornings when I see the sun Something in the orange tells me we're not done

Joel wakes up in his bed alone. Her side is cold and untouched except for the pillow, which he managed to bury his face in as he slept. It still faintly smells of her shampoo. He misses her so desperately he can’t breathe. It’s like her absence ripped a hole in his lungs and he’s been trying to patch it ever since.

He thinks about calling her, but he knows it would backfire. If he calls her and says he misses her, it will push her further away. If he doesn’t call her, she’ll never know how much he misses her. But she also won’t know he’s failing. That he doesn’t think he can do this without her. And she won’t know that he’s waiting patiently for her to come back.

Sarah cries from the other room, and he drags himself out of bed to take care of her and get her ready for the day. He tries to smile down at his tiny daughter in the crib he built himself, but he can’t form the shape with his lips, can’t dredge up enough happiness to even fake it.

“Okay, Sarah. You’re okay baby girl. Let’s get you changed, yeah?”

Joel picks her up and carries her over to the changing table. He explains what he’s doing as he changes her diaper and gets her dressed for the day. He puts her in a striped onesie and matching striped leggings. He carries her out to the kitchen and places her in her high chair.

“What do we want to eat this morning, huh? Bananas or sweet potatoes?” He holds each jar out to her and she waggles her left arm in the air. “Bananas it is.”

He straps a bib around her before he feeds her breakfast. “Can’t believe you’re already eating baby food. It’s like you grew up on me overnight, darlin’.”

After she eats, he leaves her in the high chair while he tries to clean the kitchen. She gets upset before he can even finish the dishes. He goes over to pick her up, gently cradling her head against his shoulder. She hiccups, spitting up all over his shirt and her own.

Joel sighs and goes to change her, stripping off his shirt and tossing it toward the washing machine. He gets her into a whole new outfit, replaces his shirt with a clean one, and packs a diaper bag. He feels a pang of sadness at Sunny not being there. He doesn’t know how to be a dad by himself. Should he wait to dress Sarah until after she’s eaten? Sunny always handled the mornings on weekends, since he worked so late. She would know what to do.

“Alright little lady, it’s you and me. We’re getting groceries today, doesn’t that sound fun?”

Joel feels like an idiot talking aloud to someone who can’t answer him back, but he read that talking to your baby is good for them and he’s going a little crazy alone in this house. His mom calls just as he’s about to walk out of the door. She offers to watch Sarah while he runs errands.

“I got it, Ma. We’ll be just fine.”

Accepting help feels like failing.

The grocery store is a nightmare. Sarah’s car seat makes the cart difficult to push. He doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to buy, throwing random cans into the cart that look edible. An old lady approaches him as he looks at the terrifying wall of diapers. He has no idea which ones Sunny usually bought.

“Oh is daddy babysitting his little girl today?”

Joel bristles. No. He is not babysitting his own goddamn daughter.

“Yes ma’am,” he grits through a forced smile, like he’s baring his teeth.

“She’s a beautiful little girl. Good on you for giving Mama a break.”

Joel nods and keeps his forced smile up as he grabs the nearest package of diapers and quickly leaves the aisle. Is it really so obvious he doesn’t know what he’s doing? Can everyone see he’s only faking it, that he’s clueless?

Sarah starts crying, and he tries to soothe her by rocking the car seat in the cart. It doesn’t work even a little bit, so he goes through his mental checklist – she’s been fed, it’s not naptime, it’s not too loud or scary in here. He picks her up out of the car seat and notices her drooping diaper and the worst smell that has ever hit his nostrils. She needs to be changed. Great.

He sets her back in the car seat and buckles her in, takes the cart over to the bathroom, carries her inside the men’s bathroom and… there’s no changing table. He checks all the stalls just to be sure. He can’t use the women’s restroom. He huffs in frustration and takes Sarah out to the truck to change her. He left the cart of groceries by the bathroom, but fuck it he can try again tomorrow. He changes Sarah’s diaper in the backseat of the truck and straps her back into the car seat, now safely secured to the seat.

She still hasn’t stopped crying. He makes sure she’s strapped in well and then just sits in his front seat for a while. He can feel his frustration building up. If Sunny were here, it would be so much easier. He bets there’s a changing table in the women’s restroom. He bets single mothers don’t get asked if they’re babysitting their own damn kid. The world isn’t accustomed to single dads, not built for them.

And fuck he doesn’t want to be a single dad. He wants Sonya with him, with Sarah. He wants to struggle through the hard shit with her and come out the other side stronger than ever. But that’s just not in the cards for him. He decides to let his mom watch Sarah tomorrow while he goes to the grocery store alone. And it feels like a failure. It feels like he fucked up again. He can’t do something as simple as get groceries, something Sunny did dozens of times.

Shortly after he pulls into the driveway, another car pulls in behind him. He warily approaches the stranger who gets out with a packet in his hand.

“Joel Miller?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Are you or are you not Joel Miller?”

“I am. What’s this about?”

“You’re being served divorce papers.”

Joel’s stomach drops as bile rises in his throat. Divorce. He had thought, this whole week, that she’d snap out of it and come home. But this? Ending their marriage? That’s a permanent separation. Something tells him, in that moment, that she is never coming back home to them.

He somehow makes it inside with Sarah, setting her car seat gently on the ground before he collapses. He sobs for a while, grieving the loss of everything they’d had together.

When they first bought this house, they were both barely over the age of 20. Her parents had loaned them the down payment. It was in a good neighborhood, a good school district. Probably well out of their price range, but they were gonna make it work.

The day they moved in, they had nothing but a mattress and some blankets and pillows. They had laid it in the living room, right where he lies now. They ordered Thai food and ate it on the floor and then they curled up together on the mattress. He’d taken her slow and easy that night, savoring the feeling of her wrapped around him. He’s pretty sure that’s the night they made Sarah.

Joel has to call her, has to hear it from her, and not some random courier her law firm hired. But she doesn’t answer and it goes to voicemail. He begs for her to come back. That this is too hard for him all alone.

Sarah starts crying, needing to be let out of her car seat. Joel hangs up and leans over to grab her. He holds her as tightly to his chest as he can without hurting her.

“I love you, babygirl.”

To you I'm just a man, to me you're all I am Where the hell am I supposed to go? I poisoned myself again Something in the orange tells me you're never coming home

Sonya drops her bags by the door and heads into the living room. The red light on her answering machine flashes, showing she has a message.

Sonya had a wonderful day – she went to the farmer’s market, met up with friends for lunch, checked out some bookstores and little shops. She’s afraid to listen to the message, afraid it will be him.

She presses the button and listens to it play.

“Sunny, baby. I need you. I can’t do this by myself,” his voice breaks. He sniffles a bit. “If you don’t call back I’ll… I’ll sign em. If that’s what you want. Fuck. I never thought I’d have to do it without you, Sunshine. Thought we were it. I miss you so fuckin’ much. I love you. Always will.”

She hears Sarah crying in the background and starts crying. She slumps onto her couch and lets the tears fall. She feels so incredibly guilty. Not for leaving, no. That was the best decision she could have made. She feels guilty because she’s relieved. Relieved she doesn’t have to cater to the whims of an infant all day, that she could afford to buy herself a coffee, despite only working as a receptionist. She feels guilty for leaving Joel to fend for himself.

But she won’t let his sweet message and her gnawing guilt stop her from living a life she can be happy in.

Joel stumbles into the house, less than a drink away from piss drunk. Sarah is at his mom’s for the night, as she is more often than not now. God the house feels so empty without her. There’s no meal waiting for him in the fridge, no Sarah to kiss goodnight, and no Sunny to cuddle up with in bed after a long day. He faceplants in his empty bed and cries himself to sleep.

She used to dance with him in the living room. He’d come home from work and she’d be dancing by herself in the kitchen to Etta James and he’d wrap his arms around her and kiss her like it was gonna be the last time. He’d drag her into the living room and slow dance with her until a timer went off in the kitchen or she could smell the food burning.

He wakes in the morning with a hangover and a stinging ache in his chest. He gets ready for work and comes out of the bathroom to find his mom and brother standing in his living room, Sarah cradled carefully in Tommy’s arms.

“Joel, we need to speak with you.”

“I have wo–”

“We’ve already talked to your boss, you have the day off.”

And Joel supposes he should have seen this coming. He’s been in nothing but a downward spiral for weeks. His family sits him down on his couch.

“You’re missing your daughter growing up Joel. If you’re not careful you’ll miss her first words, her first steps. You’re going to drink yourself into an early grave at this point.”

“I know.” Joel looks at Sarah sitting peacefully in Tommy’s arms and regrets the time he’s missed with her already. She seems bigger, closer to sitting up by herself, probably getting close to a whole bunch of milestones. Sonya is going to miss every single one of them, and he really doesn’t know what to do about that.

“I know it’s hard, but we’re here for you, we will help you,” his mama reassures him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

All he can do is be the best he can be for his little girl.

He decides to sell the house and most of the furniture and move into a two bed apartment with Sarah. Standing in the empty house he bought with Sunny, picked out furniture for with Sunny, it finally all feels real. She is gone forever and no amount of whiskey will make her come back. No amount of wallowing in self pity will make her change her mind.

Moving to the apartment is a total gamechanger. Sure, the kitchen is tiny and cramped and the two bedrooms combined are smaller than the master suite at the house. But it’s enough for him and his baby girl.

He quits his job at the factory and starts working construction, freeing up his evenings to be with Sarah. Sometimes he has to work weekends, but his mom is happy to see Sarah, now that he’s not staying out all hours of the night. He has Sarah every night now and watching her grow is the most beautiful thing he’s ever witnessed

One night, after he’s gotten Sarah bathed and in bed, his phone rings. The caller ID shows Sunny’s name. He wants so badly to answer it. He looks at the phone until it stops ringing and his answering machine picks it up.

“Hey, um. Call me when you get this?”

He nearly gives in, nearly rips the phone off the receiver and tells her he’ll welcome her back with open arms. But he looks around at his tiny apartment filled with baby toys and furniture he picked out all by himself, and he doesn’t see a place in his life for her anymore.

He knows he can’t allow her back into his life now when she could so easily tear down all the hard work he’s done on himself, on being a dad, on being a better man in general.

He loves her and he always will, but it’s too late for them.

#joel miller #joel miller fics #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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atinylittlepain · 8 months

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Atlantic City

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

wordcount | 6.2K

warnings | smut, angst, the usual

a/n | hey y'all, we have reached the penultimate chapter. we're in for a little angst, but i promise i make it better with a whole lot of goodness. as always, i'd love to hear what you think, drop me a line, i'd love to chat. also, if i could offer a song specifically for the young joel sequences, it would be Downbound Train by Springsteen (who else?) alright, that's all.

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gif by @santigarcia

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“She had a little oatmeal and a little applesauce, I think more of it got on her bib than it did in her mouth, though.” Tiny hands gripping at his shirt, he winces at the first sign of her impending meltdown, that small whimper of hers that always seems to come out in the mornings like this.

“Alright, Joey, that’s okay, I’ve got her.” Except she doesn’t, not yet, because Sarah is still clinging to him, tears starting to heat and dampen the side of his neck where her face is pressed as Deedee tries to coax her out of his arms. He’d like to cry too.

“I have class until seven, but I gotta run to the store too to get more formula. Shouldn’t be later than eight, ma.” It’s near herculean to finally untangle Sarah from him, a particularly loud cry striking through his ears as Deedee finally manages to scoop her into her arms. He’s learned that he can’t loiter, can’t look at her too much like this, because then that slick curl of guilt will take root and furl up his throat. So it’s a quick goodbye, a kiss to the crown of Sarah’s head and a lowly murmured love you, babygirl before he thanks his mother, who acts offended that he even tried to thank her in the first place.

He can still hear Sarah crying when he gets back in his truck. Deep breath, just one to smooth out the shake in his hands. And then his day can begin. The same day he has been doing for the last five months. They’re building new apartments off the highway toward Austin. Good work, honest work, at least that’s what people say when he tells them what he’s doing these days. He’s not sure where they get the good or honest from. Mostly, it’s sweaty and sore and simple. But it is good money, and lord knows that’s exactly what he needs right now.

She, no name, he’s been practicing no name for her, making the fact of her disappear from his life so it won’t be a problem when Sarah gets older, so just she. She left when Sarah was three months old. Not a word, not a note. Fine by him, because while they were certainly a mistake, Sarah isn’t, at all, not to him. So he’s working, making money, and in the evenings, chasing after a degree that promises something better for the both of them.

Traffic is stupid this early in the morning, crawling lights along the highway in the dusk still burning itself off with the hazy sunrise. He sighs, slumping back. He can sigh and slump now, no one watching, small relief as he rolls toward the job site. Another sigh when he sees that cars are even more jammed up because of an accident on the shoulder of the highway. He’s not one for the radio these days, much more interested in saving up slices of silences in between all the crying and sighing, though he still starts to flicker through radio channels, nothing better to do anyways.

“With us this morning, an up and coming author whose first novel has garnered a great deal of attention this year.” His hand stills, spine straightening out when the radio show host says her name. Her real name. And then it’s her, thanking the host for having her with an easy laugh.

The last time he heard her voice, he was standing in the front office of Thatcher’s with a phone to his ear and a hand held over his mouth to silence the quick sobs shaking his body as she spoke, as she apologized, as she said goodbye. The same and different. So very different. His ears rush with it, mind in a thick fog as the host says something about best selling, and new project, and some award that he hasn’t heard of before. And Cherry takes it all in stride.

She did it. She really did it. He can’t help the broken laugh that flutters up his throat, a quick burst of it that feels good only because it’s been so long since he’s had something like that, felt something like that. But it’s a quick radio segment, and she’s already thanking the host again, and they’re already taking a break for some commercial. Gone again. Sigh, slump.

Good for her, he thinks. Proud of her, he thinks. Did the right thing for her, he thinks.

And finally, traffic starts to crawl again, just another day.

…

“Yeah, uh-huh, I’ll have it ready to be sent by Friday. Look, I told you already that I’m not going to rush this one, okay? The first draft needs a little more time, just to Friday.” Often, when she takes phone calls in her office, she imagines what it would feel like to pick up her computer and smash it through her window. It’s a helpful thought exercise, keeps her from cursing out her agent at times like this.

“Alright, and– no, I saw the concepts you sent me and absolutely not. I don’t know how you can already be sending me cover art when you haven’t even read the fucking thing yet. I don’t care what kind of rush you’re in, I’m not going to accommodate it because, quite frankly, it’s fucking ridiculous.” Well, at the very least, she tries not to curse out her agent.

“Friday, no earlier and no later. And please, do not call me before then, because if I’m talking to you, then I’m not working, and if I’m not working, this fucking thing is going to take even longer. Okay? Great, thanks so much, bye.” Click, sigh. She has also imagined chucking her cell phone through the window, but that is a much less satisfying vision, so she settles for shoving it away in the bottom drawer of her desk.

“Mom?” She’s quick to stretch out of her slump at the sound of Ellie’s voice, swiveling around in her chair as she smooths out her scowl .

“What’s up, babe?”

“Is it cool if I go to the mall with Dina?” Dina, the center outfielder, right.

“Oh, yeah, do you want me to drop you off? I can–”

“No, that’s okay. Dina’s mom is gonna pick me up and take us.” Guilt starts to flicker between her ribs. This happens whenever she’s entrenched in writing. She blinks, and can’t seem to figure out where the time has gone or when the last time was that she and Ellie spent real time together. And though Ellie rails against it with a dejected groan, she can’t help but get up and pull her into a quick hug. Missed you, sorry. Love you, sorry. Ellie squirms a little, but still squeezes her back.

“Well, be safe, okay? And call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah, okay, I will.” Normally, this would be when Ellie bounds away before Cherry can get an I love you in edgewise, but instead, she stays standing in front of her, a small pinch between her brows.

“Are you, um, like– okay?” Cherry sighs. This again. This new thing again. Something that Ellie has started to do at the most unexpected times. Something that started after that day at the ballfields when their car got stuck in the mud and she and Joel shared some choice words.

“Els, what’s this about you asking me if I’m okay, huh?” She tries to say it light, with a small laugh, but really, her stomach is starting to sicken, because this is supposed to be her job, mom job, and clearly, she’s failing at it.

“I don’t know, I just– how come Tommy is the one working on the porch now?”

“Uh, well, I mean– Tommy and Joel are business partners, so they, you know, share jobs with each other.” It comes out stilted and stuttered, and she has to stop herself from wincing at the lameness of the excuse. For her part, Ellie doesn’t seem to be satisfied with that answer, brow still scrunched and mouth screwed up like she tasted something funny.

“But why isn’t Joel working on it, like, at all?” That all holds a lot more meaning than it should, and Cherry can’t help the sigh that slackens through her chest.

“I know what you’re getting at, and you have to understand that, well– we– Joel and I– there’s a lot of history there, Els. And it’s– well, it’s very complicated.”

“Do you think you guys are gonna work it out though?” It surprises her, if she didn’t know any better, she’d say that there’s a hopeful tilt to Ellie’s question and raised brows.

“I don’t know, but I don’t want you worrying about that, okay? Whether we do or not, I’m gonna be just fine, so long as I have you.” Mom brain, she can’t help herself, stealing another hug that Ellie rails against with a mom that sounds like she’s being accosted it’s so despondent.

Saved by the bell, or the car horn more like it, Ellie wrangling herself out of their hug with a quick bye, love you as she bounds through the house toward the front door. Sigh, slump, Cherry shuffles back over to her desk, steading her palm on the edge of it as she brings her other hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

The thing is, she is pretty sure that they’re not going to work this out. And that’s what she wanted, isn’t it? She’s not sure anymore. She’s not sure about a lot of things. For starters, why she really decided it was a good idea to move back here. Yes, New York was becoming no good. But then, forty-odd other states she could have chosen from. And no, too late to back out now, because Ellie has already made friends, somehow already managed to settle before school has even started. And there’s the house, and now this fucking porch.

“Hey, Cher?” Speaking of which, snapping herself back out of her slump.

“Hi, Tom, how’s it going out there?” The first time she saw him again, she was shocked by just how much Tommy Miller grew up and filled out. Joel mentioned something about him serving in the military, and it shows, she thinks. A little more serious, a little presence in the set of his shoulders. A far cry from the brash, bold, bumbling boy she remembers. The passage of time, and all that.

“Just got done with the finish, actually, if you wanna come take a look?”

“Oh really? Like, it’s finished finished?” It is, and it’s frustratingly perfect. Wood polished and still glossy, plenty of space for a table and chairs. She should be happy, or at the very least satisfied, so she isn’t sure why all she feels is a petty curl of anger rising like bile up the back of her throat.

“Wow, yeah, it looks– looks really good, Tommy, thank you. Is it alright if I pay you now? I just need to get my checkbook.” She’s already walking back toward her office, but Tommy doesn’t follow, rubbing at the back of his neck with a weak laugh.

“The thing about that, Cher, is that I’m under very strict, very aggressive orders to not take any money from you.” That anger flares at his words, a scoff in her throat as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Oh, is that right? And just which hardass are these orders coming from, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I think you’re, uh, pretty familiar with said hardass.”

“Uh-huh, right, I suppose I am.” She’s not going to let Joel win this one, turning on her heel to continue her warpath toward her checkbook, Tommy having no choice but to tentatively follow after.

“Cherry, seriously, I can’t. He’s gonna rip that check up the instant he gets his damn hands on it.” She doesn’t listen, dashing off her signature on the six thousand dollar check, though when she tries to hand it to Tommy, he tucks his hands deep into his jeans pockets, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Tommy, I don’t know what kind of stupid game your brother is playing, but I refuse to participate. You did a job for me, and did it perfectly, and now I’m going to pay you. I don’t– I can’t have this hanging over my head, alright? Just take it, please.” She hates the warble that please comes out on, a thick flush of tears starting to thicken in her throat.

“It wouldn’t be hanging over your head, Cher. You know he ain’t like that.”

“Oh, do I? Because, honestly, I’m not sure what I know about him anymore.” Silence falls, a flash of something passing over Tommy’s face that she can’t place. He clears his throat before he speaks again, and when he does, it’s shockingly quiet.

“I still remember the day you left and didn’t come back, you know. And no offense, but it’s not because we were particularly close or anything.”

“Gee, thanks, Tom. I’m not sure what that has to do with anything though.” She regrets the sharpness of her words instantly, Tommy letting out a long sigh as he shuffles his feet in the doorway to her office.

“I remember because Joel came home that night. And back then, you’d be hard pressed to get him home unless it was Sunday and ma was ready to drag him by his ears over for dinner. But it was a Tuesday, and he came home that night, and he cried.” There’s no stopping the tears now, not when Tommy’s voice breaks, covering it up with a clipped laugh and a swipe of his knuckles under his nose.

“I don’t think I had ever seen him cry that hard. Jesus, he couldn’t breathe, and it– it just wouldn’t stop. At the time I was kinda pissed, to be honest, because he wouldn’t shut up, just wailing like a little kid.” All she can do to sit down in her desk chair, taking a shaky breath as Tommy toes his boot into the floor, trying to hide the crumple of his brow on his downturned face.

“And he kept saying the same thing over and over again, like he was trying to convince someone, maybe himself, I don’t know. He kept saying I did the right thing.” Her whole body shudders, sniffling back snot as her vision swims. She doesn’t know what all Joel has told Tommy, whether he knows just exactly what happened that summer. But the way that he’s looking at her now, frown slipping heavy down his face, earnest, honest, she thinks that he knows enough, has seen and heard enough to be giving her nothing but the truth.

“Not that I’d admit this to him, but I love my brother, really, I do. But, Cher, he can be a fucking idiot about stuff like this. And I know that he doesn’t deserve another chance for the shit he’s pulled, but I just– you gotta understand how much love he has for you.” What could she possibly say to that? For a moment, it’s quiet, both of them taking stuttered inhales and exhales, trying to breathe in the fact of what was just said.

“Tom, where is Joel working today?”

…

“You have to read this book. I’m about halfway finished with it and it’s so good.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t think I’ve heard of that author before.”

“That’s because it’s her first book, I think. But seriously, she’s totally a genius.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to check it out then.”

He keeps his smile hidden behind his palm, elbow propped on his desk as he listens in to the conversation between the two students in the row ahead of him. It’s her book, he caught a glimpse of her name on the spine of it. It both buoys and batters him, a strange feeling settling in his stomach as his evening class begins.

Something his boss recommended to him. A degree at the community college that will supposedly open up all these doors for him. At least that’s what he tells himself when he slogs over to the campus after work every night. Another year to go and then, and then. Something good, he hopes. For him and for Sarah.

The same thing every day. Get up at five, if there’s sleep to be gotten up from in the first place. Get Sarah sorted and driven over to his parents’ house and then get to work by seven. Work and work and work, a good seven or eight hours before he has to book it to class. Then class, something he never enjoyed, and especially doesn’t care for now, working hard at it only for the sake of getting out of it sooner.

Last week, Deedee had tried setting him up on a date with the daughter of one of the women she plays Euchre with every Wednesday. She even offered to take Sarah for the night, a smile so steeped in hope that it had made him feel a little sick. He had sighed and made a half-hearted joke, something about a date getting him here in the first place. A distraction getting him here in the first place.

Night is creeping in by the time he gets out of class, streets going dark save for the syrupy glow of house windows, of families sitting down for dinner. And he’s never late, always at his parents’ house when he says he will be, so just this once, just a little late. He goes to the store a little further away because he knows there’s a bookstore a block down from it, lucky that it’s still open this late.

And everything gets saved that doesn’t have to be spent, so just this once, something for him. They have her book on display in the front of the store. Exactly what he was hoping for, her picture on the back of the dust jacket. The same and different, all grown up.

He buys himself a copy, but he doesn’t open it, not yet, keeping it in his lap the entire drive back.

…

Maybe a little crazy, driving her minivan through an active jobsite, men stopping in their work to tilt their hard-hatted heads at her when she parks in the midst of gravel and sawdust right in front of the half-built house. But she’s too hell-bent on the task at hand to care much, marching right up to the nearest man and asking him where Joel Miller is.

“Sorry, ma’am, who are you again?”

“Who am I? Who am I? I’m someone important, buddy, that’s who I am. Now if you don’t tell me where he is, I’ll just start wandering all over this place and probably land you with an OSHA violation. So if I were you, I’d make this easier for both of us and just take me to him, thanks.” She can hear a murmur of snickers and yips from the other men working around them, and it seems like enough to get this guy moving with a muttered okay then.

She acquiesces to putting a hard hat on, something about an actual OSHA violation, before following the man into the bare bones of the house. Some walls are put up, and some are still only frames, saws whirring and nails guns firing all around her, a perfect swirl of work and the smell of cedar that she tries to skirt around as the man leads her further into the fray.

When she sees him, she thinks to herself that it’s not fair, the way he looks with a tool belt slung low around his hips, his t-shirt clinging to the shifting planes of muscle in his back as he leans over a workbench to look at a scroll of blueprints. No, not fair at all, her throat going dry with just how not fair at all it is.

“Boss, there’s a lady here to see you.” Boss, right, he’s the boss. Fan-fucking-tastic. Joel’s head whips around, immediate confusion scrunching up his face when he sees her.

“Cherry? What– what’re you doing here?”

“What?” It’s nearly impossible to hear him over the incessant sound of work going on around them, though Joel is quick to usher her away from the thick of things and into a half-finished room that she guesses could either turn into a bathroom or a closet judging by its size. It’s a bit ridiculous that Joel closes the door to the room given that one of the walls still hasn’t been put up.

“Why– how did you find me here?” She’s just a little annoyed at how inconvenienced he’s acting, his hand on his hip and his knee jutted out as he raises his brows at her. It’s enough to get her angry all over again.

“Tommy finished the porch today and refused to take my check, so I asked him where I could find you and tuck this fucking money into your hands myself.” She punctuates her words by taking the folded-up check out of her pocket and shoving it into his chest, but Joel doesn’t accept it, the slip of paper falling to the ground when she pulls her hand away. What he does next is far more infuriating though, not breaking eye contact with her as he bends down and swipes up the check between two fingers before promptly ripping the thing up far more times than it needs to be.

“Don’t try to write me another one, Cher, I’ll just do the same thing.” A bitter laugh slips up her throat, and before she knows what she’s doing, the heel of her palm is shoving into his chest. Except he’s bigger now, broader, so what once would have made him stumble now only makes him sway a little. All the more reason to do it again.

“You– fucking– ass– Joel Miller!” He’s still unmoving under her ministrations, each of her words coming with an admittedly weaker shove until finally, Joel says her name, a quiet plea. And she wasn’t supposed to cry, that’s what she told herself on the drive over here. Under no circumstances was she going to cry. Yeah, right, big blubbering streaks running down her face already. Her hands fall limp at her sides as she shakes with it, whatever it is. Easier to call it anger, but she knows that’s not what it is.

“Cherry, please don’t cry.” She wants him to reach for her, wants to feel his palms smoothing that shudder, and for a moment, it looks like he will, but his hands just hang suspended between them, like he has thought better of it. She wishes he hadn’t thought better of it.

“I can’t– I can’t do this. You make this so hard, Joel, do you know that?” His face falls, feet shuffling closer until the toes of his boots are brushing against her sneakers.

“What can’t you do?”

“This– this– I want to be with you so badly, but I just can’t.” She hates what a relief it is when he finally reaches for her, his palm resting along her jaw, the calloused pad of his thumb collecting stray salt.

“Why can’t you? I– I’ve been wanting you for a long time, Cher. We could do it, I know we could.”

“I’ve heard that before, Joel. And it didn’t end well.” She can’t look at him as she says it, her stomach sinking with the words. Because it’s true, after all. He sighs, a long, dejected sound that makes her tear up all over again.

“Will you look at me, please?” She doesn’t want to, and isn’t sure if she can right now, but he shows her how, his knuckles crooking under her chin, a soft please that she folds to, finally meeting his eyes with hers.

“I can’t change what I did in the past, Cherry. And it kills me that I hurt you, but I was trying to do right by you. I don’t know anymore if I did, and I don’t know anymore if it even matters. But what I do know is I never stopped loving you. And if you’ll have me, I’ll be yours until the day I die, and probably then some, to be honest.” A laugh at that, thick with snot, feeling good in the midst of all these tears. She curls her fingers around his wrist where his hand is still cupped along her cheek, a tug to come closer so she can rest her forehead against his, though there’s a small shuffle first, both of them pushing their hard-hats off, paying no mind to the clatter of them when her nose brushes along the line of his.

“Don’t make me a promise you can’t keep.” She says it quiet, almost reluctant, but Joel just smiles.

“Not a promise, just the truth. Reckon I’ve been yours my whole life. And I’ve been hoping you’ll be mine too.” Something blooms inside her, relief in opening up, in allowing even amidst that still-there grip of fear. Because he’s here, and so is she, and there’s plenty of time to prove that fear wrong, to get it right, now, here, in the present.

She doesn’t answer with words, just closes the space still between them, the easiest yes in the way her lips press against his.

…

He knows he needs to go in. Needs to gather up Sarah and get back to their shoebox apartment so the whole routine can start over tomorrow morning. But quick, he can be quick, sitting in his truck with only the faint slant of clarity from the streetlight to brighten the pages. He steals the first chapter just like that, quiet, mouth moving with every word. And it’s a peculiar feeling, like pride, though he knows he has know business letting that swell in his chest with the way things ended between them. It’s good, of course it’s good. Not that he’s some well-seasoned reader, but he knows good when he sees it, and she was always so good, he thinks.

He’s only twenty minutes late when he finally knocks on his parents’ front door, and though Deedee makes nothing of it, he still feels that guilt sickening and skittering up his spine, trying to tamp it down with kisses pressed into Sarah’s curls.

By the time he gets them home, Sarah is indignant, fussy coos humming in her chest, ready for a bottle that he still has to make. Muscle memory, auto-pilot, he heats it up with her in one arm and the book held in his other hand, plowing through half of chapter two before he finally has to set it down to feed his girl. His girl, his perfect girl. He has enjoyed doing this from the very start, one of the things he always felt he could get right, at the very least. Simple and sweet, all the motions of bedtime, a small mercy that she goes down easy tonight because he’s still thinking about the book he left splayed open on the kitchen counter. He doesn’t sit down, just simply leans over the counter to keep reading under the light above the stove.

Sarah begins to cry about an hour and a half later, and by then he has already finished half of the book, careful to mark his place before checking on his girl. His hands still shake sometimes with the reality of holding her, something so small and careful that he has to roll his shoulders back a few times after every diaper change, every close cradle, like his whole body braces for her, trying to be big and enough for her. And he should get some sleep now, he knows that. But he reasons to himself that he’ll be waking up in an hour or two anyways for her, so, might as well.

Just like that, for the rest of the night, back and forth between Sarah and his close huddle over the kitchen counter. By the time morning is starting to blush that pale blue through the curtains, he has read the whole thing.

And no, not his place, and no, he has no right, but he is proud of her. Proud that she got out, proud that she did it. And relief too, that maybe he did the right thing after all, even though it hurt so very much.

…

Maybe a little crazy, the both of them. She’s pretty sure she heard a few wolf whistles when she led Joel out of the house and back to her car, but she doesn’t care, and she doesn’t think he does either judging by the way he keeps rubbing his palms down the front of his jeans in the passenger seat, both of them sweeping their eyes over the half-finished lots of this new neighborhood, searching for the same thing.

“Wait, right there.”

“Right where, Joel? There aren’t any–” She doesn’t finish that thought, a gasp high in her throat cutting it off when Joel reaches across for the wheel and veers her car right off the street and into an empty lot. The only reason she doesn’t press the brake is because she’s too stunned to move, letting the car roll into a thick copse of trees. She’s only snapped out of her stupor when Joel huffs out a right here, stop, stop, Cher, bringing the car to a stuttering halt. It’s all she can do to laugh as she looks around at the perfectly secluded spot.

“You always did have a talent for finding places like this.” He grins crooked at her, still leaning over the console with his hand on the wheel.

“Yeah, well, you– just c’mere.” Not pretty, not at all. A little greedy and a little desperate, her elbow beeping the horn as she scrambles over the console, Joel groaning when her knee lands a little too close to his crotch before she finally settles in his lap. He holds her by the hinge of her jaw, opening her mouth with his and taking everything she has to give. And in turn, she seeks out more however she can get it, one hand in his hair tugging when his teeth nick her bottom lip, her other hand bunched into a fist in his t-shirt. And it should be good, except it’s all so scrunched up in the passenger seat, and her legs are bent at such an angle that when she tries to grind her hips down onto his, she ends up with a mortifying cramp in her hamstring.

“Oh fuck.”

“I know, Cher, me too.”

“No, I mean, my– my leg is– I need to get up, it’s–” Joel finally seems to get the hint when she lets out a hiss of pain, quick to open the passenger side door so she can hobble down off his lap, tenderly trying to stretch out her leg in a graceless hop. Luckily, it seems to sort itself out, though Joel still gets out of the car, making her heart do something strange when he holds onto her hip with one hand as he rubs out the muscle in her leg with his other palm, squinting up at her and murmuring a question, that better?

“Y-yeah, thank you. We could– the backseats go all the way down.” He’s a sight, eyes big and blown out, lips parted in a swollen little pant as he looks at her.

“Right, let’s– let’s do that then.” She makes quick work of cranking open the sliding door of the minivan and folding the backseats down, plenty of room to assure that there won’t be anymore cramping crises. When she turns around to usher him into the back, Joel is quick to stamp a hard kiss to her mouth, a breathless laugh punching out of her lungs when he pulls away.

“Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, Cher.”

“Well, if you liked that, just wait until I put the seats back in place.” His smile splits, all boyish in the way his eyes crinkle up. And it’s all graceless fumbling from there, both of them crawling into the back, leaving the door cracked to let in the late summer breeze, though she can already feel sweat sticking her shirt to her back. Not that it matters though, not when they’re both making quick work of each other’s clothes.

Her want wills, and he answers in kind, letting her press him back, bare for her, heart beating for her as she settles between his legs, already taking him into her mouth, salt and sense, all him making her hum low in her chest.

“Jesus, look at you– so fucking pretty like this, Cher.” He’s one to talk, she thinks, chest flushed to blaze all the way up to his cheeks, his eyes heavy and hooded looking down at her as she laps at his leaking tip before taking as much of him as she can into the heat of her mouth. Though he doesn’t let her work him over for long, a petulant hand curling around the nape of her neck and a breathy baby, baby, c’mere coaxing her up, both of them sighing when the swollen ache of her cunt grazes along his length.

“Like this– I want it like this, Joel.” Her lips drag the word up the arc of his throat, sealing them with her lips slanting over his.

“It’s all yours, Cherry. I’m all yours.” They move together like they never stopped in the first place, all quiet communication in the press of their foreheads, eyes turned down to watch as she sinks down onto his throbbing cock, a high sound stopping itself in the back of her throat as her hips settle against his. For a moment, just this, the tight peaks of her nipples grazing his chest with each broken breath, palms smoothing along skin only to grab greedy handfuls where they can. And then the quiet murmur, good? Yes, so good. Moving with so good simpering up and down her spine, a moan breaking in her chest with the first pass of her hips against his.

He lets her find the rhythm first, his mouth hot and open against the side of her breast, all coaxing, all consuming with the way his hands grip at her ass. Everything turns hazy and humid in their close press in the back of her car, skin slick and sticking, chests fluttering with hard pants.

Not so young anymore, either of them, getting a little ahead of their own pleasure because she can already feel it snaring and snapping in her pelvis, that liquid languor that turns taut so fast. And of course Joel can tell, bringing his hand to curl around her hip so he can drag messy circles against her clit, mouth open and pleading against hers.

“That’s it, Cherry, take it for me. Fuck, I wanna feel it, just like that.” Her breath catches in her throat, that searing snap that slackens everything else, his name on her next exhale as everything melts down around her. Just him, and the close grind of his hips up into hers that’s snarling on the edge of too much, cracked whimpers with each thrust that she bites back, wanting his pleasure just as much as she wants her own.

“Baby, baby, so good like this. Want it so bad, want you so bad.” Her lips slide against the shell of his ear, crooking into a grin when he groans at her words, his grip on her tensing and tightening as he comes, warmth spreading and sating.

All tangled up, their bodies slacken and slump, splayed out in the back of her car as they both catch their breath. Joel’s head tilts up when she huffs out a laugh, breath fanning over his chest where her chin is resting.

“I don’t think that was the smartest way we could’ve started this new relationship thing.”

“I think we’re pretty far past new relationship, Cher.” She hums at that, no real argument, settling instead for a kiss pressed into the bare patch in his scruff.

“You know, Ellie asked about you.” Joel’s eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Seriously? Thought that kid hated me.”

“Mm, I think you won her over with the diarrhea joke.”

“Well it certainly worked on you.”

“Unfortunately.” He huffs at her dig, laying a mean squeeze to the crease where her ass meets her thigh.

“Unfortunately, none of that, Cherry baby.” Ease, all ease in their shared smile, settling back down around each other with a sigh. They’ll have to untangle soon, leave soon, back to reality soon. But for now, this time with him, all the time to say what she wants to say to him.

“I never stopped, you know. I think that’s why I came back, at least partly. I was hoping that you hadn’t stopped either.” Her cheek rises and falls with his breath, Joel trailing his finger along her jaw to coax her eyes back up to his.

“I didn’t, Cher. Even when I didn’t wanna admit it to myself, I was waiting for you, hoping for you too.”

................................

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limedane21 · 1 year

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It’s God’s Will [Vash X Reader][3/3]

Word Count: ~4.6k Description: The gang wakes up after a night of celebration. Problem is no one remembers the night and there might have been a wedding? A/N: search history now has ‘wikihow marriage license’ in it cause I don’t exactly know how that works and I’m banking on your guys don’t either lmao. This is written for entertainment value not accuracy anyway. [Part1] [Part 2]

It was another few hours before a doctor came into the room, “Is Y/N here?”

“Yes?” you answered as everyone got up from their seats.

“Can I speak to you privately?” the doctor asked.

“Hey, are you going to tell us if Vash is ok or not?” Meryl interrupted.

“He’s fine, I just need to go over some things with Y/N,” The doctor replied before turning to you, “Follow me.”

You looked back at Meryl and Wolfwood, shrugging as you left the room. You followed the doctor through several hallways. You hoped she was taking you to Vash but was confused on why just you specifically. You doubt Vash would make that request, all of you were friends.

The doctor stopped at a random door and turned to you, “I had to speak with you privately since you’re the spouse—”

“Wait, what?” You interrupted, not believing what you just heard.

“The records say you are married to Mr. Vash,” the doctor said, confused.

“No no no no, there’s got to be some kind of mistake,” you said, waving your hands, “No one even remembers the wedding cause we were all blackout drunk.”

“Well, you seem to remember it and there are official papers stating so. You’ll have to talk to town hall about it if it is indeed untrue,” The doctor continued, “Regardless, let’s get back to Vash. He's stable and resting at the moment, however, we want to keep him here overnight to make sure everything is okay. Are you alright with that?”

“Yes, of course,” you almost couldn’t pay attention as you tried to figure out how your marriage was officiated.

“Do you wish to see him?” the doctor asked.

You nodded as she opened the door for you. The room was bare, just a bed, chair, and nightstand. A radio played music softly and Vash’s coat and glasses were neatly folded and set on the chair.

You walked over to the bed where Vash slept; the color on his face was still off. You knelt down, holding his prosthetic hand as you watched him slowly inhale and exhale. Your panic from earlier melted away as your brain accepted Vash was okay.

You couldn’t stay forever though, so you got up and kissed Vash’s beauty mark. You immediately felt stupid for doing that and quickly made your leave. Thankfully, you had a good sense of direction as you made it back to the waiting room Meryl and Wolfwood were in.

“They’re going to keep Vash overnight to make sure everything is good,” you said, “You should be able to visit him. He’s in room 103.”

“What about you?” Meryl asked.

“I need to run an errand, I’ll be right back,” you smiled reassuringly before heading out, “Okay, bye!”

You heard Wolfwood yelling back something but you were already out the door. It wasn’t yet dusk as you hoped town hall was still open. Taking a right, you briskly walked to the center of town.

The town hall was one of the oldest buildings. It was mostly made from stone and bricks with metal additions that were added through the years. You walked up the steps and tried the door. It opened and you entered the lobby. A receptionist looked up from his papers, “How can I help you?”

You walked over to the desk, “Um, I need to check and possibly update my marital records?” you didn’t know how to word the question with such a bizarre situation.

“You’ll need to speak with Ms. Moore. She’s the first office to the left, down that hall,” he pointed and then returned to his paperwork.

“Thanks,” you replied, heading down the hallway.

You found the door with Ms. Moore’s name and knocked.

“Come in!” a cheery voice answered.

You opened the door to find Ms. Moore, a younger woman with her hair tied up in a bun. She was surrounded by file cabinets with pills of files filling up her desk.

“Hello, take a seat, I’m Ms. Moore,” she greeted, moving a stack of files off her desk to the floor next to her, “I’m the familial and martial records archivist. How can I help you today?”

You sat down on the only chair that wasn’t covered in files, “I was at the hospital earlier and they said I’m married.”

“Okay, are you not?” She asked.

You sighed, your head dropping as you realized you were going to have to explain it to her, “A week or so ago my friends and I got blackout drunk and one of them decided to take it upon themself to get me and another friend married. I thought the person who performed the marriage wasn’t an authorized officiant and no one remembered so I didn’t think it was officiated.”

“Interesting,” Moore said, “Can’t say I’ve had this situation before. Let’s check the records for a marriage license. What’s the last then first name?”

“It’s L/N,” you said as the archivist pulled out a drawer and started sifting through the files, “And my first is Y/N.”

“Okay,” Moore drew out as she double checked, “I’m not seeing anything under that, is there another name it could be?”

“I don’t remember the marriage license or signing anything, but,” you paused, hoping Wolfwood didn’t actually do this, “Try Stampede.”

“Stampede, now I remember that,” Moore spun in her chair to another cabinet, “I thought it was an odd last name. Oh, here it is.”

She pulled out a file and put it on her desk, opening it up.

“Okay, here’s your marriage license and it says here your legal name is now Y/N the Stampede,” Moore said.

You facepalmed; you were going to kill Wolfwood when you saw him again. You dragged your hand down your face as you looked at the license Ms. Moore was showing you. There it was, your messy signature along with Vash’s.

“This Nicholas D. Wolfwood, he’s the officiant and the person who decided to get you and Vash married?” the archivist asked.

You sighed, “Yeah, didn’t realize he was authorized.”

“Do you wish to null the marriage?”

You stopped yourself from saying no, “Y-yes. Yes,” Vash doesn’t know, it isn’t fair to him.

“Well, to do that you’ll need to either have your spouse also agree to a divorce or have Mr. Wolfwood nullify it since both of you were intoxicated.”

Great, now you had to pick between a hard place and a rock. You knew your chances with Wolfwood were slim but you definitely didn’t want to tell Vash, especially since he’s still recovering.

“Lovely,” you got up from your seat, “Thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome, I hope you figure everything out,” Moore replied.

You left town hall feeling drained already. The sun was finally setting as you made your way back to the hospital. You’ve decided to fight Wolfwood tomorrow about the whole marriage thing. You just wanted to be by Vash’s side now.

The hospital was quiet as you walked to Vash’s room. Most of the lights were shut off leaving you with just enough light to see your way through the hallways. You successfully managed your way to room 103 and carefully opened the door so you didn’t wake Vash.

Meryl and Wolfwood turned to you. Vash’s coat and glasses have been moved to the nightstand as Meryl sat in the chair. Wolfwood leaned with his cross on the wall across from Vash.

“Where did you go?” Meryl asked, keeping her voice low.

You didn’t have the energy to reply so you just shook your head and walked over to Vash. He was now lightly snoring which you took as a good sign.

“Let’s go, Meryl,” Wolfwood said, grabbing his cross and walking to the door, “Give Y/N some alone time with Vash.”

You turned to the undertaker about to retort but he just winked at you and left. Meryl got up from her chair.

“What’s in the box?” Meryl asked.

You slowly looked over at her, “None of your business.”

Meryl looked at you suspiciously but didn’t respond, following Wolfwood. When the door shut, you sighed and pulled the chair up to Vash’s bed. You less than gracefully fell into the chair and set your head on the bed, looking at Vash’s sleeping form. At some point, you fell asleep.

Your back ached as you slowly woke up. You could have sworn you felt someone running their hand through your hair but as soon as you shifted and started stretching out the feeling was gone. You tried to stretch your arms out but were blocked. You opened your eyes to see Vash sitting up in bed looking down at you.

“Morning,” he grinned.

“Mmmm,” you grunted as you sat up, “How are you feeling?”

“Better now,” Vash gave you a thumbs-up, “I hope I didn’t scare you too much.”

“Only the normal amount,” you yawned, covering your mouth as you did so.

A knock sounded on the door and a nurse peaked in, “Oh Mr. Vash, you’re awake. Do you mind if we do a few tests to make sure you’re all set to leave?”

“I don’t mind,” Vash replied as the nurse entered the room.

In the hallway, you saw Wolfwood and you remembered how he changed your last name. Gritting your teeth, you got up and stormed out of the room, wanting to get this over with.

“Oh hey, you look happy to see me,” Wolfwood smirked.

You grabbed his collar and shoved him against the wall, “I’ve about had it with your shit.”

“My shit? I’ve hardly done anything for this amount of aggression,” Wolfwood replied coyly, “Unless there’s something you want to tell me?”

You looked side to side to see some people staring and eavesdropping. You let go of Wolfwood’s shirt and stepped back.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” you said, walking down the hall.

Wolfwood shrugged and followed after, grabbing his cross.

You found a dead-end alleyway behind the hospital. kicking at the trash on the ground, you turned to the undertaker. He set his cross against a wall and pulled out a cig, lighting it and sticking it into his mouth.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” He said, blowing smoke into your face.

Your nose crinkled as you swatted away the smoke and plucked the cig from his mouth. You dropped it on the ground and stomped on it.

“I don’t believe you when you say you don’t remember what happened that night,” you declared.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Wolfwood replied, “You’ve been acting weird since that night. Now I might not remember what happened but it seems like you do and it has something to do with me.”

You stared at him for a moment, you really, really didn’t want to tell him what happened but you’ve made your bed, now you must lay in it.

“You,” you jabbed your finger on Wolfwood’s chest, hoping aggression would be a better persuader than straight-up begging, “somehow orchestrated a marriage between Vash and I, and now my legal name is Y/N the Stampede.”

Wolfwood stared at you in disbelief before he started laughing hysterically. You crossed your arms as he choked on his spit, still laughing.

“Laugh it up, asshole,” you deadpanned, if you weren’t so embarrassed by the whole ordeal you would probably find it as funny as the undertaker.

Wolfwood wheezed as he had trouble breathing properly, his hands on his knees. He brushed away the tears forming around his eyes as he straightened.

“You’re telling me, there was a whole ass wedding and no one remembers but you,” he said, coughing as he went into another laughing fit.

“Yes, and the only person who can nullify it is the officiant, which apparently is you,” you replied.

Wolfwood stopped laughing, “Wait, you want me to nullify the marriage?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, “No one remembers and we were all drunk. That’s not a real wedding.”

“Sorry, it must have been God’s will,” Wolfwood lit another cigarette, blowing out smoke before continuing, “Besides, don’t you like Needle-noggin anyway?”

You felt the blush creep up from your neck to your ears. You opted to stare at an interesting piece of garbage on the ground as Wolfwood waited for an answer.

“Exactly,” he said, your silence confirming everything, “That’s why I won’t nullify it. If you want a divorce you’ll have to tell Vash yourself.”

“You are a fucking asshole, Wolfwood,” you mumbled, your hands curling into fists at your side.

“Tell me something,” Wolfwood ignored your comment, “Do you have those rings in that fancy little box of yours?”

“Are you going to tell Meryl?” you asked in return.

“Nah, even though she totally tried getting into it last night,” Wolfwood replied.

You never could quite believe him but you knew sooner or later it will spill either by your or someone else’s doing, “Yes, the rings are in the box. Along with all the photos.”

Wolfwood chuckled before getting serious again, “You need to tell Needle-noggin. Soon, it’s not very fair to hide this from him, don’t ya think?”

“And it's not very fair to marry two intoxicated people but here we are,” you scoffed.

Wolfwood ignored you and grabbed his cross, walking back into the hospital, leaving you to your thoughts.

You don’t remember how long you stayed out there but eventually, you went back to Vash’s hospital room and helped him check out with Wolfwood. All three of you returned to your temporary house. Meryl had gone shopping for some groceries so the group can make some dinner while Vash recovers. She and Wolfwood were preparing dinner as you sat on the porch staircase, looking out to the endless sands.

You didn’t feel like talking to anyone or doing much of anything since your conversation with Wolfwood. You were embarrassed by how you acted and are still acting. You knew you should have told everyone what happened that night instead of keeping a secret that slowly ate at you from the inside out. But you were always an anxious person and that anxiety makes you do some rash things. Or in this case not do things you really should.

You heard someone walk up behind you. You glanced over as Vash sat next to you on the steps. He gave you an easy smile and looked out at the desert with you. Most of his color was back but you could tell he was still a bit ill, moving more slowly and sleeping often.

“Are you alright?” he finally spoke, breaking the comfortable silence.

“No,” you answered honestly, not elaborating.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Vash asked.

“No,” you sighed, “But I’ll have to eventually.”

Vash leaned into you slightly for a second, giving you a soft smile, “I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You don’t know why, but you felt a weight being lifted from your shoulders with Vash’s words. Somehow you kept forgetting that Vash was the nicest person you know and that he’ll understand anything. You just didn’t want to ruin that.

“Thanks,” you smiled back.

“Lunch is ready!” Meryl called from the house.

You and Vash turn to the door before looking at each other. As Vash slowly got up, you rose, your hands hovering around him in case he lost his balance. He didn’t and you both entered the house and walked to the dining room. Meryl and Wolfwood were already seated at one side of the table, so you and Vash sat together.

Dinner was potatoes, bread, and some type of meat. Vash carefully picked at his food as Wolfwood stole a piece of meat from Meryl’s plate.

“Hey,” she protested, taking a piece of his potatoes as payback, “You got plenty on your plate.”

“Yeah, but you overcooked my steak,” Wolfwood replied.

“You cooked the steak genius,” Meryl retorted, dodging the undertaker’s attempts at more of her steak.

“Guys, c'mon let’s just eat off our own plates,” Vash interrupted, his voice coming out more tired than normal.

The two stopped but not before shoving at each other one last time. You just watched and ate, glancing over at Vash to make sure he was okay. You caught Wolfwood looking over at you and he quickly winked in return. You pressed your mouth into a thin line before going back to your plate, not wanting to give him a response.

“Hopefully that gang will leave us alone now,” Meryl said.

“They better after the hell I gave them,” Wolfwood replied and turned to Vash, “I didn’t kill anyone so be grateful.”

Vash chuckled, “Yeah, thanks,” he paused for a second before speaking again, “I think I’m going to retire. Night, all.”

“Night,” you all chimed as he got up and walked to his room, shutting the door.

You looked back down at your plate and continued eating. When you didn’t hear the others doing the same you looked back up. Meryl and Wolfwood were staring at you, Meryl with a determined look while Wolfwood shrugged at you like he was forced to do something.

“Wha—” you started before Meryl brushed her plate to the side and placed the box on the table. It had been noticeably chipped at.

“What’s in the box?” Meryl asked.

You stilled, glancing over at Wolfwood for any help. He just subtly shook his head.

“None of your business,” you turned back to Meryl.

“I’m not taking that answer anymore. You’ve been acting weird since that night we all got blackout drunk and as a reporter, it's my job to find out what happened,” Meryl said.

“You’re not reporting that night in the papers so what does it matter?” you asked.

“So you do know what happened?” Meryl pressed, she was standing and leaning over the table now.

“I never said that,” You retorted, crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat as you tried to give an air of confidence.

“You’re hiding something and it's in this box, I know it.”

“Well, it looks like you had trouble getting into it. You know it's rude to take people’s things,” you said.

“Why are you so desperate to keep it a secret?”

“Does it have to do with Vash?” Wolfwood decided to join in.

You scowled at him as he smirked at you. Sure he wasn’t going to tell Meryl but you guess that doesn’t mean he won’t help her. Meryl watched both of you before turning back to you, waiting for an answer.

You sighed, the fight leaving you as your shoulders slumped. You were tired of being embarrassed and made fun of.

“It’s embarrassing,” you started, not looking at the two.

You heard Meryl slowly sit back down, catching your shift from defensive to defeated. Your crossed arms turned to holding yourself for comfort as you prepared to spill.

“First I would like to say this is all Wolfwood’s fault,” you started; if you were going down, you definitely were dragging him with you, “He stole Vash’s arm and sold it for a pair of rings. He, somehow, convinced Vash and I to get married and officiated it, even getting the fucking license and having us sign it.”

“Want to tell Meryl what your new name is,” Wolfwood prompted, apparently very proud of his “creation”.

“Y/N the Stampede,” you mumbled, turning away.

“What was that?” Meryl asked, having not heard you.

“Y/N the Stampede,” you said a little louder, blushing in embarrassment.

Meryl’s cheeks puffed out as she tried to hold in laughter and failed a second later. She slammed her hand on the table, already losing her breath. Wolfwood grinned with her. You just looked miserably at the pair as you waited for them to finish.

After a minute or so, Meryl suddenly looked confused, “Wait, how do you know about this Wolfwood?”

“Y/N told me this morning,” Wolfwood replied, “Trying to get me to nullify the marriage so she didn’t have to tell Vash.”

“What?” Meryl before she turned back to you, “Vash doesn’t know?”

“Of course not, everyone got blackout drunk. I thought it was a dream before I saw the photos.” you replied.

“What photos?” Meryl replied, “You said most weren’t viable.”

You rolled your eyes and took off your boot, grabbing the key and throwing it across the table to Meryl, “I lied.”

She took the key and immediately opened the box, going through all the photos, “Oh my god.”

You put your boot back on as she continued to go through the box. She reached the end of the photos and pulled out the string that held the rings. Wolfwood and Meryl analyzed them for a few moments.

“Why haven’t you told Vash?” Meryl asked, putting everything back into the box.

“Mmmm,” you didn’t answer.

“Y/N,” Meryl pressed.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” you answered.

“Why would that ruin your friendship?”

You were not liking this interrogation very much, “Cause I like him.”

“Awww,” Meryl cooed, “Well that’s just perfect you’re already married so you can skip over the dating part.”

“Meryl this is serious,” you warned.

“I know, but you have to admit it's kinda funny,” she said.

“Yes, I know,” you replied, “But since it’s still ongoing and I’m a part of it, it is not exactly funny to me at the moment.”

The table fell silent as Meryl processed everything she just learned and you sat uncomfortable, wanting to crawl into your bed and never leave. Wolfwood got up, grabbed his cross, and left to smoke outside for the evening. Meryl started taking the empty plates to wash and you got up to help clean off the table.

“I’m going to bed,” you said, grabbing the box and key.

You twisted the doorknob all the way and silently opened the door. You carefully shut it behind you as well and walked to the far end where your shared dresser was. You set the box and key on it before resting your hands next to it as you felt your energy drain from your body. You were already drained from your conversation with Wolfwood earlier and now that conversation with Meryl sapped you out of everything else. However, you did feel part of your self-imposed burden lift.

“Are Meryl and Wolfwood giving you a hard time?” Vash asked.

You snapped in his direction, “I thought you were asleep.”

You vaguely saw Vash shrug in the shadows, “You guys were a bit loud.”

“Oh,” you paused, “So you heard us…”

“Not enough to hear what was said,” Vash replied, watching you for a moment, “Is it about that thing you weren’t ready to talk about?”

You nodded, “Yeah.”

Vash didn’t say anything after as you leaned over the dresser still. After a few moments, you finally pushed yourself up and sat on your bed so you could take off your boots.

“Um,” you barely heard Vash as he spoke up again, “If you want, you could lay with me if that’ll make you feel better.”

You couldn’t see his face but you could tell he was nervous asking you. You wanted to question it but you wouldn’t pass on such a nice offer since it’d probably be ruined tomorrow when you tell him what happened.

You must haven’t answered soon enough cause Vash started backtracking, “That is, if you want—”

“Sure,” you interrupted before he could talk himself out of it, “That sounds nice actually.”

You heard him shift as you got up and walked over to his bed.

“It’ll probably be best if you climb over to the other side,” Vash said, in reference to his prosthetic arm.

“Okay,” you replied, carefully maneuvering yourself over Vash and dropping on the left side of the bed.

Once you were under the covers, you wrapped your arms around Vash’s waist and pulled yourself into his chest. Vash stiffed at first before relaxing and wrapping his arms around you, his chin resting on the top of your head. Vash’s fast heart rate eventually steadied as you both lay there. You took a deep breath, taking in Vash’s smell before slowly drifting off to sleep.

You were slow to wake as you felt a sense of deja vu sharing Vash’s bed. You both were still holding onto each other. Vash sturred awake as you leaned back to see his face. He smiled at you before yawning.

“Morning,” you whispered.

“Morning,” Vash replied then chuckled, “This feels familiar.”

You raised a brow at him as he smiled, nervously.

“At the hospital, you fell asleep with your head on the bed,” Vash explained..

The corners of your mouth lifted before you remembered the box and pulled away from Vash; his brows furrowed at your actions, “What’s wrong?”

“Remember when I said there’s something I would need to talk to you about?” you asked, holding your hands to your chest as Vash gently held your waist.

“Yes?” Vash answered.

You jerked your head in the direction of the box and key, “What’s in that box will tell you everything.”

Vash turned around and sat up, leaning over to grab the box and key before putting it on his lap. You rolled over, you didn’t want to see his reaction. You heard the box unlock and its hinge squeak as it was opened. Vash shifted through the photos and picked them up. You tensed up as you heard him make a eek noise while looking at the photos. He shuffled through more and lightly laughed at one. You finally heard the clinking noise of the rings as Vash bought them out of the box.

“I thought it was just a dream,” he said, which made you roll back over.

Vash looked down at you and smiled. Blush brushed his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Rem told me a little about marriages,” he paused, “I won’t mind trying it with you.”

You pushed yourself up, your eyes wide, “What? You like me that way?”

You had forced yourself to doubt Vash would like you that way, you felt like you couldn’t comprehend any other outcome. Now Vash was sitting next to you, saying he wouldn’t mind being married.

His face grew more red before he squeaked, “Yes.”

You grabbed Vash’s cheeks, bringing his face to yours, “Can I kiss you?”

He just smiled and connected his lips with yours. You both held the kiss for a few long moments, your hands moving to Vash’s shoulders. When it ended you looked into each other's eyes.

Vash then turned to the rings, “In that case…”

Your hands left his shoulders as he undid the string’s knot and dropped the rings into his hand. Vash gently grabbed your left hand and slipped on your ring. You followed suit and did the same. You both held each other's hands, looking at the rings.

“There’s something else I need to confess,” you said.

“Oh?” Vash replied.

“Remember that the morning after the party, when we woke up in the hotel room?” Vash nodded and you continued, “we were sleeping in the same bed.”

Vash put a hand on the back of his head, “Oh, I kinda figured.”

“Huh?” you exclaimed.

“I woke up before you then fell back asleep,” Vash explained, “I assumed you were embarrassed so I didn’t say anything.”

You shook your head, smiling, “And I thought I was the one trying to save you the embarrassment.”

You both chuckled before you spoke again, “Guess I’m going to have to live with the name Y/N the Stampede now.”

“What?!”

[Part1] [Part 2]

#vash x reader #vash x gn!reader #vash x you #trigun stampede #vash the stamepde #vash

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fruitcoops · 9 months

Text

Chicken Strip(tease)

O'Knutzy Week Day 3: Cooking Mishap + Bondage! For @oknutzyweek2023 and many thanks to @lumosinlove <3

It was January in Gryffindor—in other words, fucking miserable. Leo gave himself a little extra grace for that when the screaming toddlers at the corner store started feeling a tad too relatable. The weather couldn’t decide between sleet, hail, and snow, so it vomited out some nightmare combination of the three with the magnificent addition of near-freezing temperatures from dawn (short) till dusk (even shorter). Any of Leo’s grumbling was sharply silenced by a blast of shearing wind to tell him to shove it up his ass.

The living room plants had a special light to mimic the sun during the months of garbage disposal weather.

Leo had the oven. And he was going to bloom and grow and photosynthesize, goddammit.

Simmer pots went from a monthly occurrence to a weekly staple—ostensibly, he needed to use up the extra oranges before they went bad. They had soup every night for a week, and as the sky grew darker, he transitioned to frequent roasts. The three of them could demolish a hunk of pork in one sitting without any trouble at all; Leo was sure anemia spooked and ran the second it glanced their way.

“What’s—”

“Veggies.” The first two rows of tiles by the oven were warmer than the rest of the floor. He had discovered that just after Cap’s birthday. “Carrots, celery, beets. The works. How’s your mom’n’em?”

“My—they’re good.” Finn’s socks muffled his footsteps. Leo stared into the tiny oven window, entranced by golden light. “Yeah, no, everyone’s fine. Excited to see us for the holidays. Mom sends kisses.”

Leo hummed. That would be nice. He wasn’t keen on winter any further north than Kentucky, but the O’Hara house was always warm. Warmer than Rimouski, at least. It was a testament to Logan’s love that he didn’t ask Leo to bury himself in snow that could be measured in meters.

“…you okay, baby?”

“Hmm?” He scooted an inch closer to the oven and gleefully wiggled his toes on the nearly-too-hot tile. “Mhmm.”

“You’re sitting, like, really close to the oven.”

“Warm,” Leo supplied. Wind shrieked down the brick siding of their building and he closed his eyes, leaning in. The oil was starting to sizzle.

“Please don’t bake yourself.”

The concern in Finn’s voice made him pause. He blinked. His face was beginning to prickle.

In the glass reflection, Finn squatted with a soft groan. His fingertips brushed Leo’s spine. “Le? You listening?”

“Mhmm.” The carrots would be ready to caramelize soon. Maybe he could do another soup as a side course.

“You gotta sit back, Butter.”

“ ‘S warm here.”

Finn sighed. “C’mon. Let’s get you a blanket.”

Arms came around his chest to haul him off the ground like a ragdoll. “No,” Leo protested weakly, reaching for his little square of salvation.

“Yes,” Finn mimicked. His sweater sleeves gave gentle cushion to Leo’s underarms as he was (dragged) hustled to the other side of the kitchen; Finn paused, moved to his front, and boosted him onto the countertop with only a quiet grunt of effort.

Leo couldn’t help the slide of his lower lip. “But…”

“Uh-uh. No baked boyfriends, please.” Finn leaned up to kiss his cheek, but swerved an inch before he made contact. “Oh, that looks tasty.”

Leo exhaled miserably and plopped his forehead onto Finn’s shoulder. A hand found his nape within seconds. “Chicken.”

“I see that,” Finn laughed. “Looks great, honey.”

“Might have soup, too.”

“You’re really feeling the soup, huh?”

“Tasty. Easy.”

“It’s amazing,” Finn agreed. He toyed with a few overgrown curls, then leaned toward the doorway. “Lo! Le made a chicken!”

An instant ruckus followed—Leo buried his smile in Finn’s neck. For someone so small, Logan couldn’t do anything quietly. “A chick—oh, coucou, you look cozy.”

“I hate January, and I hate the weather, and…” Leo groaned and pushed his face into the warm, spicy hollow of Finn’s neck and shoulder. “And I really like soup.”

“Okay,” Logan laughed. “Is that what we’re having?”

There was a nudge to his arm; Leo lifted it to make room and shuffled Logan against himself, resting his chin on the top of his head. Perfectly snuggle-able, that one. Warm, too. He knew he kept him around for a reason.

He had made a bit of a mess, when he really looked at it. The chicken was a work of art but he had been more concerned with lingering near the oven than cleaning as he cooked, which left a disaster of impressive proportions sprawling across the countertop. A small pool of olive oil oozed along the tiles. Pepper caught the edge and diverted it onto a spoon. He followed the lazy river past a bowl, a ramekin, and a spoon (half-burnt from one of Logan’s ill-fated baking attempts) before catching at the corner of the pan. A soft hiss followed, then cooled.

Before his very eyes, his Jacques-Pepin wet dream of a rotisserie chicken sat up and began to dance burlesque.

A startled laugh burst from him. One crispy leg lifted in arabesque—a wing shimmied at him, seductive and gorgeous and golden. Leo turned to muffle himself in Logan’s hair, unable to look away despite mild horror at Finn’s fingers all over his moment of divine inspiration. “Oh my god.”

The chicken paused, gave a sultry half-turn, and wiggled its voluptuous white meat at him.

The giggles flooded forth, and he simply couldn’t stop them. Logan’s chest shook under his hand.

“I can’t…” Finn’s tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to beckon with a wing. “God, you’ve got this thing all done up in—fucking bondage or something.”

“It’s trussed!” Leo propped his chin on Logan’s head. A warm hand folded over his own. He made eye contact with Finn and pressed a kiss to Logan’s ear. “And it’s perfect.”

“Course it is, it’s you.”

His grin made his cheeks hurt. “Stop playing with your food and come kiss me, Chicken Boy.”

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn ohara #cubs #oknutzy #oknutzy week 2023 #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #coast to coast #sweater weather #fluff

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wibble-wobbegong · 1 year

Note

How do u want the first byler kiss to be

ok i think i’ve answered this before so i decided to write out a little ficlet. practice writing before i start spamming mike stuff as his birthday comes up

———————————————————————

2:30. Ish.

Mike lowered his watch back down from his face, arm bouncing against the mattress as it landed. Being woken up again like this is not what he was hoping for when they’re meant to be saving the world tomorrow, but he gets up anyway. If Will is awake, then so is he.

The door is barely left open every time he does this, but it’s more than enough for Mike to stick his fingers through and open it wide. He tries to do it quietly, but his door always squeaked after a certain point which seems to change every time he opens it. A little twinge from the hinges is all he needs to hear before he stops and starts sliding through the gap he’s made, trying hard not to wake up the other party members sleeping on his floor. After El had decided she wanted to be with the party too, they’d taken out Mike’s bed frame and put four different beds right next to each other on his floor for them to pile on. Not ideal, but none of them are denying the comfort it brings. Even if it does make him feel like baby bird waiting to get kicked out of the nest.

When Will leaves like this, that nest immediately feels emptier. It’s a sensation so thick it manages to wake Mike in his sleep, every single time. Tonight is the fifth time he’s done this since (almost) the whole party moved in.

There’s always a gentle wind that calls Mike out to the garage when he starts to follow, beckoning him to step closer and into the darkness of the house. The electricity was shut down last year when they stopped trying to save Hawkins and simply dubbed it a no-man’s land, quarantining the town and everything in it. They’re just lucky that El and Will are owed a lot by the government, meaning they get shipments of the supplies they need to stay alive and fight. Electricity can’t come on trucks, though. Not unless a few AA batteries count.

The house is always dark at night. Before, his mom would leave the light over the sink on. The lights from Lucas’ house and the neighbors across the street would reflect on the windows. He’s gotten used to the colorless hours of dusk to dawn.

When he makes it down to the garage and there’s a light coming from the other side of the barely open door, he stops feeling like a bird and more like a moth. No longer clumsy and daunted as everything in him comes together to push him there. There’s a craving that runs through him so intensely he almost doesn’t want to go. This light is not something that deserves to be devoured and torn. It deserves to be held close by warm hands, ones that’ll set it free when it asks. Hands he doesn’t have.

“Mike?” He blinks a few times, trying to reorient himself. Maybe standing in the doorway and staring at Will is his natural state because he doesn’t remember closing the gap.

The light is in Will’s lap. Nothing more than a battery powered lamp. Just a stupid hunk of plastic.

“Hey. Are you okay?” His feet move fast as he rushes to fill the space by Will’s side. He stretches his legs out in front of himself, not sure what to do with them and a little jealous of Will’s ability to curl so perfectly into a criss-cross.

Will stays quiet for a few moments, just looking down at the lamp. It flickered once. Twice. Then, “Do you..,” a sigh, “Do you really think we can win tomorrow? I mean— we’ve tried so many times and it never works, Mike. He always comes back. What are the odds that anything we do tomorrow actually works?”

Looking up to meet Mike’s eyes, Mike can see how they’ve gone glossy and desperate for an answer. It seems as though the gravity of tomorrow is pulling him down— the corners of his mouth, his eyes, his shoulders and back. All of Will is being dragged towards the ground, and Mike won’t let it happen. He’s been given wings by his friends, by this light, and he can use them for good.

“Well, I don’t see any world where we don’t win. Even if tomorrow goes to shit, it doesn’t matter. We’ll win. The good guys always win.”

“But that’s just in stories, Mike. Real life… it isn’t nearly as nice as those stories. Happy endings aren’t that easy.”

“Do you know who you sound like right now?” Will quirks his brow at the switch of tone.

“Who?”

“Frodo. You sound scared that you’re not gonna make it because everything keeps getting harder. It’ll get harder,” Mike takes a small, quivering breath before placing his hands on Will’s face so he can catch those tears he know will start falling, “But I think Sam was right. People tell stories with happy endings for a reason. If we really had no shot at beating Vecna… I don’t think we ever would’ve gotten you back, Will. We got you back for a reason. You beat that possession for a reason. There is a reason that people always talk about good guys winning. Even when the villains are big and scary and cruel, they never win. They don’t have what we have.”

Will is quiet, watching him. He hasn’t taken Mike’s hands off his face yet, so Mike pushes a little further and brings their foreheads together so he can look into Will’s eyes and see nothing else. He doesn’t want to see anything else and he doesn’t need to.

“Vecna is alone. He’s been alone for a long time. Not us, though. We have your family and my family and the party. We have the party. Hell, we even have Argyle,” Will let’s out a little laugh at that one, “And you know what else? We have you. You’re the hero this time, Will. And the heroes always win.” Will lets out a watery laugh and shakes his head, jostling Mike’s grip on him, so he lowers his hands. Will grabs them.

“I don’t know where you pulled that from, but I think you’re wrong. You’re the hero, Mike. You made me into one.” That hits Mike in a little piece of his heart that hasn’t been touched in a long time. It’s raw and tender and it hurts a little, but adrenaline rushes through his veins and his hands start to shake in Will’s. Just the tiniest bit.

“Well, Sam and Frodo were both the heroes, weren’t they?”

“Yeah. I guess they were. Frodo wouldn’t have made it out without Sam.”

“Sam never would’ve been anyone important at all if it hadn’t been for Frodo.”

They look at each other a moment longer, and Mike starts to lean back and give Will space when Will uses their hands to tug him back. Mike laughs a little, and he hates how wet it comes out but god Will’s hands are so warm in his and everything inside of him feels so alive, beating with a newfound light to fly towards.

When Will reaches both of his hands up to cradle the bottom of his head and tilt it forward, everything freezes. The lips across his forehead, over his hair, make all that life from before feel like nothing more than a planet in a universe. Everything inside him grows tenfold, and then again for every second Will holds him close and keeps his lips against his forehead. He can barely feel them over the thickness of his bangs, and he can’t deny that craving that’s kicked back to life.

Will is gentle, and he is sweet, but he is also so much stronger than anything else Mike has ever known. He lets that craving take over when he grabs Will by the shoulders and tilts his head up to kiss him properly.

#shakes shivers falls over cries #did not read this over j am just publishing my practice now #fuck it we ball #byler #wibble writing (gay style)

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mlwritersguild · 2 months

Note

Between Twilight - Ladrien

The response to this prompt comes to us from @rosie-b! (You can also find it on Ao3)

—

She only ever comes in the evening. The quiet moments just before dusk, when the last rays of the sun are still bidding the city goodbye, that’s when she visits him. It was the time that they'd agreed upon, back in the beginning of their unusual arrangement. Then, Ladybug was free from her daily chores, and there were fewer people outside looking up to spot her. Then, Adrien’s schedule was finally empty, and the short gap left at his bedtime — early, for models need their sleep if they’re going to look pretty — could be filled with a visit from his dearest lady.

“Are you sure that you’re okay with this?” she’d asked him in a hushed, anxious voice that first night. She’d looked beautiful in the low lighting, her blue eyes wide and staring at him, his modeling lipstick already staining her lips.

He had smiled in response, moving closer to caress her flushed cheek before placing a kiss there.

“Of course I’m sure,” he’d whispered close to her ear. “You’re all that I’ve wanted for years. If I complained about how I can finally have you, I’d be lying, because I would die for just a glimpse of your smile, Ladybug. Keeping this secret is a tiny price to pay in comparison, and much more than I’d dared to hope for.

“As long as you’re sure, too,” he’d added, suddenly remembering how nervous he’d been only minutes ago while making his confession.

Ladybug had smirked as he’d leaned back, not wanting to leave but not sure if she wanted him to stay.

She’d pulled him closer, pressed a kiss to his cheek as she placed her hand on his back, and then dipped him down. The blood had rushed to Adrien’s cheeks as he processed what she’d done, and she leaned down close to him.

“Of course I’m sure, Adrien,” she whispered to him, and when her lips finally touched his, he knew he’d found heaven.

But they were fooling themselves, and they both knew it. Their relationship was born of a dying dream, in the face of the dark nighttime which kills hope and love. In the final moments of the day, at the last glow of light, she could visit him. And then at nightfall, he would be left all alone. That was what they both knew when they’d agreed to this, to the clandestine meetings and the kisses stolen from the very hands of fate.

Just like the daylight, the chance for them to be together was dying, and once they’d caught Hawk Moth (together, though Ladybug didn’t know that part yet), there was no guarantee that Adrien would ever see his lady again, as a civilian or a kwami-powered hero. This was what he had chosen, and most of the time, he was all right with his reality.

But sometimes he wished she could visit him during the day, that they could walk down the streets like real— like openly dating couples did. He wished he could wave her goodbye as she left and not wonder if that final kiss had marked the last one of all time for them.

He wanted to be able to give her roses.

That was one unfairness he hadn’t expected, though Ladybug had, in her wisdom.

“My family would notice them,” she’d told him regretfully. “Maybe just one every now and then should be all right. But more than that, and it will be obvious I’m hiding someone from them, though they wouldn’t know who.”

She was right. So, Adrien never gave her more than one rose at a time, and even those came sparingly. Someday, when they’d revealed their identities and promised to still love each other, he could give her a whole bouquet, Adrien told himself. He would make sure it was the most beautiful bouquet anyone in Paris had ever seen.

He dreamed about it on evenings like these, in the moments where the clock’s counted time was late but the sun’s light still kept the sky mostly blue.

He dreamed to pass the time, because he was waiting for her.

As twilight began in earnest, he began to prepare for her, making sure that his room was tidy and checking his face in the mirror one more time. He endured Plagg’s lazy teasing and fed him cheese to shut him up, then sat back on the sofa by the window, waiting for the sound of a yo-yo.

He closed his eyes and listened as his mind lingered on roses and kisses at the beginning of night.

“You look pensive today.”

Ladybug’s voice surprised him, and his eyes flew open.

“Lovebug! You know I’m always happy to hear your voice, but you don’t need to sneak up on me like that!”

She laughed, the sound loud and clear. “I wasn’t sneaking, my prince. I think you were falling asleep, was the problem. Did you get tired of waiting for me?”

Adrien’s brows furrowed as Ladybug sat down next to him. “I wasn’t,” he said. “Wasn’t falling asleep. Could never get tired of waiting for you. You didn’t tell me not to call you Lovebug,” he pointed out, feeling slightly concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”

Ladybug reached over and folded his hand in hers.

“I’m fine, Adrien. You already know my preferences, so why should I have to repeat them all the time?”

Adrien watched her in disbelief. “You just scolded Chat Noir for calling you Buginette this afternoon. Why are my nicknames special?”

“Because you are!” Ladybug said with a smile that dimmed when he didn’t laugh. “Okay. You looked pensive, like I said, and a little sad. I didn’t want to scold you while you were looking like that. And… you still do, kind of, look like that. What were you thinking about before I came?”

Adrien nearly jumped. “Oh! Nothing! No, it was just a long day, and I was waiting for you, which was fine and you weren’t late and I was okay, really.”

“You were okay?”

Ladybug wouldn’t let go of his hand. That was fine, only he really felt like getting up and pacing or maybe hiding himself in his bedsheets and taking the express elevator down to the center of the earth, so it could hide his embarrassment there.

“I am okay, Ladybug. Really.”

She frowned and watched him closely.

“If you say so. But you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Adrien nodded. “I know I can.” But you can’t, he added in his head.

Or maybe out loud, judging from the hurt look on his girlfriend’s face. Perfect.

“I didn’t mean to say that! And I didn’t mean it like that, either! I just meant, well, it’s unfair for you, isn’t it? That I can tell you anything—" Well, not really. “—but you can only tell me so little, even when you want to say more. It’s unfair to you, not me.”

“Yes, it is,” Ladybug said, chewing on her lip. “Yes, it is unfair to you. Is that what you were upset about?”

Adrien spun around to face her fully. “No! It wasn’t that, I was just— I was wishing I could give you roses. Not just one, but a whole bouquet, or maybe one flower every day, or both. It wasn’t anything else.”

Ladybug still looked unsure. “But I’m the reason you can’t give me more than one flower,” she said slowly. “Are you mad at me? Did I do anything?”

This was going much worse than Adrien had wanted it to.

“No! I’m not mad, I swear! You’re also the reason I have someone to give roses to! And I’m really happy about that!”

Ladybug seemed to relax a little. “Okay. Then, what’s bugging you?”

“That it’s not a good time to make use of that pun,” Adrien joked.

Ladybug was not impressed.

“You know what I meant. If you’re comfortable sharing with me, then please do! I want to be here for you, Adrien. Please let me be.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that.

Adrien sighed. “I’m not upset. I really am being honest about that. I guess it just bothers me sometimes, that this is all the time we have together. I’m glad we have it, and it’s more than I ever expected I’d have, but doesn’t it seem a little like we’re cursed, that we’re fighting fate doing this?”

Ladybug shook her head. “What do you mean? I thought it was a blessing that we could have this time at all.”

“Well, yes! But haven’t you thought about it? How we can only meet while day turns into night, in between twilight and dusk and darkness? Is this all we’re allowed to have? When Hawk Moth is gone, when you beat him the way I know you’re going to do, what happens? You told me before that you might need to give up your Miraculous. If that happens, how will I see you again? What if this is all the time I’ll ever have with you, and I can’t even give you enough roses to make it feel as special as it is?”

Ladybug’s face softened. “It always feels special enough to me, with or without the roses. Just being with you means so much to me! And, Adrien, I promise we will have more time than this. When Hawk Moth is gone, I— I might need some time, but then I promise I will tell you who I am, under the mask. And we will be together in the day, go on dates in the park and kiss and not worry about the rest of it. I worry, too, you know, but at the end of the day, you’re always there for me. And I think, that’s enough. We are blessed, Adrien. What we have is a miracle. It could never be a curse.”

Adrien smiled and tried not to cry.

“Thank you,” he choked out. “I’m sorry for worrying. That was silly.”

“It was just your big heart showing how much it cares,” Ladybug said, tapping the spot of his chest where it lay. “I could never complain about that, and you better not apologize for it. I love you, Adrien. Just remember, we’re stuck between twilight now, but after that, after the night that follows, then comes the dawn. And we will have it one day. Together.”

“Together,” Adrien affirmed, snuggling into his girlfriend’s warm arms. And they stayed like that, together, watching the stars emerge, waiting for dawn.

—

Want to participate in this month's event? Check out the rules, and send us a prompt!

#writer spotlight #rosie b #ml writers guild #lovesquare #miraculous ladybug #mlb #ladrien #the fic i might write #ask game #march event 2024

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rosie-b · 2 months

Text

Between Twilight

Figured I'd post the story here too, since that's what I usually do!

This fic was written for ML Writer's Guild, from one of this month's prompts. You can read it on AO3, below, or on the MWG blog! And feel free to send us some more asks to answer <3

He had smiled in response, moving closer to caress her flushed cheek before placing a kiss there.

“As long as you’re sure, too,” he’d added, suddenly remembering how nervous he’d been only minutes ago while making his confession.

Ladybug had smirked as he’d leaned back, not wanting to leave but not sure if she wanted him to stay.

“Of course I’m sure, Adrien,” she whispered to him, and when her lips finally touched his, he knew he’d found heaven.

He wanted to be able to give her roses.

That was one unfairness he hadn’t expected, though Ladybug had, in her wisdom.

He dreamed about it on evenings like these, in the moments where the clock’s counted time was late but the sun’s light still kept the sky mostly blue.

He dreamed to pass the time, because he was waiting for her.

He closed his eyes and listened as his mind lingered on roses and kisses at the beginning of night.

“You look pensive today.”

Ladybug’s voice surprised him, and his eyes flew open.

“Lovebug! You know I’m always happy to hear your voice, but you don’t need to sneak up on me like that!”

She laughed, the sound loud and clear. “I wasn’t sneaking, my prince. I think you were falling asleep, was the problem. Did you get tired of waiting for me?”

Ladybug reached over and folded his hand in hers.

“I’m fine, Adrien. You already know my preferences, so why should I have to repeat them all the time?”

Adrien watched her in disbelief. “You just scolded Chat Noir for calling you Buginette this afternoon. Why are my nicknames special?”

Adrien nearly jumped. “Oh! Nothing! No, it was just a long day, and I was waiting for you, which was fine and you weren’t late and I was okay, really.”

“You were okay?”

“I am okay, Ladybug. Really.”

She frowned and watched him closely.

“If you say so. But you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Adrien nodded. “I know I can.” But you can’t, he added in his head.

Or maybe out loud, judging from the hurt look on his girlfriend’s face. Perfect.

“Yes, it is,” Ladybug said, chewing on her lip. “Yes, it is unfair to you. Is that what you were upset about?”

Ladybug still looked unsure. “But I’m the reason you can’t give me more than one flower,” she said slowly. “Are you mad at me? Did I do anything?”

This was going much worse than Adrien had wanted it to.

“No! I’m not mad, I swear! You’re also the reason I have someone to give roses to! And I’m really happy about that!”

Ladybug seemed to relax a little. “Okay. Then, what’s bugging you?”

“That it’s not a good time to make use of that pun,” Adrien joked.

Ladybug was not impressed.

“You know what I meant. If you’re comfortable sharing with me, then please do! I want to be here for you, Adrien. Please let me be.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that.

Ladybug shook her head. “What do you mean? I thought it was a blessing that we could have this time at all.”

Adrien smiled and tried not to cry.

“Thank you,” he choked out. “I’m sorry for worrying. That was silly.”

“Together,” Adrien affirmed, snuggling into his girlfriend’s warm arms. And they stayed like that, together, watching the stars emerge, waiting for dawn.

#rosie-b writing #ml fanfic #ladrien #miraculous ladybug #ml au

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goldenmagnolias · 7 months

Text

lost in the labyrinth of my mind

pairing: OC High Lord of Dusk x Archeron!Sister

summary: Reverie Archeron has always been different. Different in a good or bad way depends on who you asked. Now a High Fae, and with another war approaching she tries to be as helpful as she can around Velaris and with her baby nephew, but at a High Lord meeting, the countless dreams she has as a child and the feelings that are not quite hers suddenly make sense and things become something that she never could have seen coming.

a/n: Hi everyone, sorry for the time it took for me to post this chapter. I did kinda loose half of this chapter once I had it all set and done, and then I was trying to live up to what I had lost. But I finally am quite content with it. Hope you guys like it.

masterlist / ao3

CHAPTER XI: PLANING, CHATTING AND CONTEMPLATING

It took a total of 12 minutes for her oldest sister to be glaring away at her mate.

“Nesta,” Reverie calls, “Feyre is a Daemati and can Winnow, Cassian can fly, Lucien and Azriel can winnow, you guys can visit me.”

“We don’t know where it is or how Dusk works.” Nesta says, as she moves to look back at her. Feyre had gone to talk with Vivianne and Elain was with Lucien, Azriel and Gwyn, talking quietly not far from where they were.

“You’re helping a lot with my nerves,” Reverie says in a slightly sarcastic tone, before she raises her mug to take a sip, because bless Vivianne, she had hot chocolate on the table that held beverages.

“Sorry,” Nesta said and actually winced, visibly so. “I just… worry.”

“I know.” Reverie says softly, moving and squeezing her sister’s hand with her free one.

“Congratulations Little Sister,” Cassian says, a grin on his lips, as he moves, draping one of his arms around her sister, kissing her temple. “Or should I call you High Lady of Dusk now?”

“You will not do such thing.” Reverie says softly, shaking her head. “Don’t even dare, besides I’m not anything yet we just met.”

“Not by Dusk Customs from what Kallias was telling Rhysand.” Cassian hums, “you are The High Lady of Dusk. They have a more… progressive approach. Kallias words not mine.”

“They just gained points with me on that aspect.” Nesta hums.

“I figured they would,” Cassian says and winks at Reverie making the youngest Archeron give him a grateful smile.

Because the Lord of Bloodshed knew his mate well, and he probably came to offer some peace of mind and comfort to her and to Reverie with the few words he said, with the information he was made aware.

“So you’re going back to Velaris with us or…”

“Apparently not,” Nesta says looking at her sister.

“I already promised you, if anything changes I will send for one of you.”

“You shall not blame me for my trepidation on letting you go with a stranger.” Nesta says, “and I know you did.”

She feels him getting near without even turning around and the hardening of Nesta’s features are telling, she moves turning around finding Ophiuchus a few steps away from where she stands.

He’s approaching with a blank look on his face but his lips twitch when he looks at her.

“My Lady,” He greets her.

Reverie gives him a small smile, “you’ve met my oldest sister… this is her mate, and the Night’s General, Cassian.”

Ophiuchus dips his head in greeting. “Lord Rhysand mentioned you both integrating Illyrian Females on your rankings and bringing back the Valkyrie’s, my libraries hold some tomes from the Valkyrie’s legions. If they’re are of interest, I could arrange some copies to be delivered to you.”

Reverie blinks in surprise, and her eyes dart to Nesta, seeing the curiosity in them, before they move to her mate.

“At what price?” Nesta asks, raising a eyebrows

“Things here’s still seem a bit ancient on terms of equality with all respect and honesty.” Ophiuchus shrugs. “And in technicality, you’re family.”

Reverie gives Nesta a pointed look, despite her flaming cheeks at the last part, See?

“When are you leaving?” Nesta asks.

“Whenever your sister feels like she’s okay with it, ideally before nightfall.” Ophiuchus replies with another casual shrug. One that should not look as refined as it does.

“-but anyways I will card through those books and try to find it.” One of the females from Dusk, says approaching with Elain and Vassa by her side.

“What are you plotting now Elia?”

“Me? Nothing. I’m just saying that we have a lot of books that they might not.” Elia replies, turning to a male who looks like the genderbent version of herself, “do you know any relating to that?”

“Not out of the top of my head, but there’s probably something.” He says before he bows his head, “my apologies for my twin. I’m Silas, that menace is my twin sister Elia, the blonde beside her is Daphne, the one who looks like he’s carding through his brain is Taran, and this one is Darius,” he says indicating to each as he says their names, “And well you’ve already met Ayla.”

Reverie gives them a small smile in greeting, “it’s nice to meet all of you.”

“They’re my court, the only ones missing are Solana, Blake and Sirius.” Ophiuchus says to her. “they stayed behind at Dusk.”

Reverie finds herself nodding while trying to remember all the names.

“The books are regarding Vassa’s curse.” Elain says towards Reverie.

“We are dealing with him and well Gwyn has a theory.” Vassa adds looking to the Valkyrie.

“We find the basis of his powers, we find a loophole to Vassa’s curse and doing so…”

“We find a way to kill him.” Feyre completes. “Death God or not.”

“No one truly controls death.” Reverie says mindlessly.

All the heads in the room turn to her.

“Your sister is literally called Lady Death.” Eris comments.

“She’s acquainted with it. Not it’s master.” Reverie mumbles, her cheeks flushing at the attention, “am I wrong?”

“No. No you’re not.” Nesta says, looking at her sister with analytical eyes, “it doesn’t do my bidding without a price and clearly not by my every whim.”

“And it was given to you by the Calderon…” Feyre comments with a frown, but realization slowly falls into her face.

“Which means we need to find if his abilities including the one to inflict the curse that has befallen Vassa something Kochei was born with or if it was gifted to him by something or someone.” Reverie says, smoothing the skirts of her dress.

“Why isn’t she a scholar again?” Helion asks looking at the youngest Archeron.

“For the answer, you need to ask her that question.” Rhysand says amused, to which Reverie rolls her eyes.

They have had that conversation countless times, specially when things intuitively spill out of her mouth out of nowhere just as they did. Amren, freaking Amren of all people, had stoped and looked at her surprised once a few months ago, and Rhys hadn’t let that go, not completely.

Why should he? at least you could make yourself useful for a change , a voice that sounds oddly like her mother’s seem to echo in her mind.

I help with Nyx, and unlike you, him and Feyre respect my choices. They let me breathe and process everything that happened at my pace, She thinks back.

‘Ria,’ Feyre’s voice cuts through her spiraling.

Reverie blinks and finds everyone staring at her, her eyes move to her feet, “I apologize, got too lost in my head. Please continue.”

“We focus on Kochei’s power and it’s possible weaknesses while assessing the Beron situation.” Vivianne says and seems like the conversation moved seemingly through both topics as she stayed stagnant in her mind. “We report back in a month or sooner if we have any drastic developments?”

“I believe that’s a good time frame.” Reverie hears her sister reply.

“Good, we will set aside some of the scholars.” Helion says, “specially those who work with codifying curses and old tales.”

“We planning doing the same,” Rhysand says, “the priestess have been working with some theories for sometime.”

Gwyn nods, and Reverie remembers her mentioning things here and that about her research.

Emotions echoed through the room and those present. Dread and hope walking side by side towards things that were uncertain and things that could be found out.

….

Most end up leaving by the next hour or so, the High Lords and Feyre arranging the details of the next meeting which is to take place in Velaris.

She is cradling her second mug of hot chocolate looking out to the view of winter from the balcony.

“Wait till you have a taste of our mulled wine. I have a feeling you will quite like it.” A voice speaks and she turns around coming to face Taran.

“Lord Taran,” she greets with a small smile, “well I look forward to it.”

“Just Taran.”

“Then call me Reverie, please.”

Taran nods, before quietly saying, “you’re worried.”

“Oh that tend to be my default emotion, I’m afraid.”

“About our court I mean.”

“Oh… that.” She sighs. “is it that apparent?”

“No. But I’m not a Spymaster for no reason.”

Reverie hums, “good to know the court is on good hands. You’re very elusive, and yet I wouldn’t have guessed you.”

“Silas?” Taran guesses

“Yeah,” Reverie says, “I apologize if I offended you.”

“Oh no, it’s a long time trick. He could be too but he is very much political minded.”

“He seems such. So I assume Elias is the general, Ayla his second?”

“Correct.” The male nods, eyes raking through the view.

“Ophiuchus mentioned ideally we are leaving before night, so that would be anytime now?”

Taran hums, “I assume he said so, so that he can show you a bit of Euryphaessa on daylight. I might be biased but it’s a sigh to be taken with.”

“Euryphaessa,” Reverie echoed, the name feeling so familiar on her mouth, “does that mean anything specific.”

"Something along the lines of ‘wide-shining,’” Taran replies.

“That’s pretty.”

“The city certainly fits its name,” Daphne’s voice makes itself present just as the female approaches them.

“They’re still politicking.”

“Oh, but of course.” Daphne hums, “they have new points of views of course they’re using it. They can be at it for hours, My Lady.”

“Reverie,” The youngest Archeron corrects softly.

“Daphne then,” Daphne says with a smile, “good to know you’re not stuck to titles, not many in our court are.”

“Titles are just words in the end.”

“Oh, you and I will get along very well.”

Reverie smiles, she certainly hopes so, possibly friends to call her own, who are not her friends because they’re her sisters, it is nice.

…..

a/n: Taran, Daphne and Ria finally interacted 🤗 my little trio. We are closer and very soon to getting to Dusk and I couldn’t be more excited and happy. The amount of moodboards I have for it has reached a worrying level lol. Thoughts, comments, theories?

taglist: @imma-too-many-fandoms @shadowcrowsworld

#acotar #acotar fanfic #dusk court #archeron sisters #fic: lost in the labyrinth of my mind

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asirensrage · 1 year

Note

Request please

"I'm going to kiss you. Okay? Just...just let me kiss you."

Another Set of Yandere Prompts: 4. Things would be easier for you if you just gave in, you know.

Richie Gecko From Dusk Til Dawn TV

Oh man, despite having a plan for a fic for this fandom ages ago (and a playlist) I never wrote more than a page. It's also been forever since I've seen this show. I should rewatch it. I hope you enjoy it! I have a feeling this takes place before the events of the show.

Warnings: mention of kidnapping/being kidnapped. That's about it. Also unbeta'd. (as usual with these, unnamed and undescribed female oc)

She’s trying to ignore him. He’s sitting next to her, thigh pressed against hers but she focuses on the television. She hasn’t spoken to him since they got here and she knows, for as quiet as Richie is, it’s driving him crazy. Good. He deserves it. If only for the shit he’s putting her through.

“Things would be easier for you if you just gave in, you know.” He says it without looking at her, but when he does turn, she doesn’t even glance his way. She’s not going to give him the satisfaction.

“I know this…isn’t what you’d choose, but trust me. It’s better this way.”

She scoffs at that. Better? Running from motel to motel in some desperate search of a goal that she knows they’re never going to reach. She didn’t want to come. She didn’t want to get wrapped up in whatever shit he and his brother were getting in because if she knew one thing about the Geckos, it was that this would end in blood. She didn’t want it to be hers.

But Richie had followed her around like some lost puppy when they met and Seth...well, Seth was only weak for his brother so when it was time to move and Richie wanted to keep her…she came with them. Whether she wanted to or not.

She hears him pull out another smoke before he stops and puts it away. She knows the only reason he does is because she snapped at both of them about dealing with their secondhand smoke in the room, especially when they refuse to let her open a window.

“You’re not even going to look at me?”

She keeps her eyes on the stupid reality talk show that’s on low because the guests keep screaming at each other. At least until she feels his hand touch her chin, turning her face to look at him.

“There you are.”

“Richie. Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He shifts slightly closer and despite how angry she is at him, she doesn’t move. His eyes watch hers, searching for any hint of some expression she knows she can’t meaningly give. He doesn’t have his glasses on. Somehow he seems less intense, softer in some way. A small vulnerability that he’s allowing her to see. “I’m going to kiss you. Okay?” His voice is low and it’s a question she can’t answer. She’s not supposed to be here. “Just…just let me kiss you.”

He moves slowly, as though he’s giving her time to retreat if she wants. His grip on her chin loosens as callused fingers shift to cup her cheek. His lips are dry and a little cracked, but his kiss is gentle. It feels like he almost doesn’t believe it’s happening, at least not at first. The longer his lips carefully move against hers, the more confident he becomes. It’s not long before he’s deepening the kiss, tongue licking into her mouth and demanding more.

She sinks into him, hand clutching at the dress shirt he’s wearing. She shouldn’t be doing this, especially not with him, but it feels good and she needs to just forget for a moment the chaos that her life has turned into.

The lock on the door clicks and before she can even think, she shoves Richie away from her, watching as he tumbles off of the bed in surprise.

Seth stands there for a moment, taking in the scene as she turns back to the TV. He snorts slightly, looking past her at her brother who’s picking himself up off the floor. He opens his mouth to say something before she sees him shake his head. “I don’t want to know. I got food. Hungry?” Seth puts the bag he’s holding down on the small table.

She doesn’t move, unwilling to give in again and pretend that this is okay, even if she was just kissing Richie. It doesn’t matter because Richie brings her the food anyways. She eats, ignoring the way her throat tightens. She’s here because he wants her. They stole her because of him. A kiss doesn’t change that. Not even a bit.

#sort of love this #richie gecko x oc #richie gecko fic #dark drabble #burnincrown #asks

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storiesofsvu · 2 years

Text

Sugar Mommy Ch 8

Warnings: language, smut.

The two of you spent Sunday recovering from the gala and beginning to pack for the week and a half out of town, using Monday to tie up any loose ends and make sure things in the city were taken care of before you headed out Tuesday morning. You weren’t surprised at all to find the quaint house in the Hamptons fully decorated and Christmasafied when you arrived, a gentle sigh of appreciation escaping you as Rita turned back to you.

“Don’t say it.” She joked, a soft smile on her lips.

“It’s beautiful.” You squeezed her hand, “Whatever housekeeper you have out here clearly knows what they’re doing.”

“You deserve a beautiful Christmas.” Her hand came to stroke at your cheek, lips lovingly meeting yours.

“And so do you.” You pecked her lips gently, “Don’t ever forget that okay? You deserve just as much as you give my love.”

“All I need is you.” She murmured against your lips, kissing you lightly once more before showing you around the house.

After an extended break to change and settle in, the two of you took the late afternoon to explore through a winery. There were a large varieties of sampling’s indoors, making your way through a smattering of reds and whites, with an array of accompaniments to enhance the tastes. As the afternoon turned into dusk, the skies beginning to darken, you headed into the outside area of the winery. The normally grape filled outdoors were twinkling with Christmas lights, sparkling against the snow as you sipped on warm mulled wine, happy to freely be arm in arm with not a care in the world. You laughed easily, smiles remaining on your faces as you exchanged adoring glances, the occasional kiss you couldn’t hold back as you watched the other’s eyes glisten in the lights. You had to admit, it was easily the best holiday experience you’d had in years.

Dinner took you back into the main part of town to Lulu Kitchen & Bar, one of the most highly recommended places. You split a bottle of wine, a grilled burrata, before indulging in entrée’s, conversation flowing over the table, incredibly happy you were able to finally let work drift completely free of your minds. Whenever possible, your free hand extended across the table, eager to take Rita’s in it, interlocking your fingers on the tabletop, thumb running across it as you smiled at whatever story she was telling.

The festive, romantic mood was in place more than ever by the time you’d settled the bill, leaving the resturaunt arm in arm, fingers intertwined as you moved through the small streets. You were heavily laughing over a joke as you rounded a corner, barely noticing your surroundings. Not a care in the world as you pulled Rita in for a soft kiss, smiles breaking out on both of your cheeks as she kissed the tip of your nose gently, murmuring how much she loved you, the two of you jumping in your skin as a very familiar voice broke through your fantasty world.

“Counsellor?” Your faces both shot up, glancing to none other than Elizabeth Donnelly, in the process of hanging up her phone outside a ritzy wine shop.

“Your Honour-“ You weren’t quite sure where to go from there, your instinct was nearly to tear away from Rita, not that it mattered, Liz had seen everything already. You felt your heart stutter warmly at the way Rita’s hand squeezed tighter around yours, not letting you move an inch.

“I guess running into you up here shouldn’t be a total surprise.” Rita replied. Liz smirked, things slowly beginning to reveal themselves.

“And now it’s making sense as to why Y/N’s been so present in my courtroom…you know the sudden Prada didn’t go unnoticed.” You laughed softly, ducking your head.

“So I’ve heard.”

“We’re just on our way home from dinner at Lulu, I’m sure—“ Rita’s reply was cut off by a sudden outburst, the door of the wine shop swinging open, a husky voice interrupting your conversation.

“They didn’t have the Pinot you wanted so I got the Macmurray.” Casey was quick to plant one on Liz’s cheek before even realizing they had company, hand stilling between them as she went to return the older woman’s credit card.

“Ah-a…” Your voice couldn’t help it, cocking a brow at the other two, a small smirk on your cheeks. Casey flushed heavily, realizing present company was technically work company, but also taking in the fact that you were not only in the Hamptons with Rita on Christmas, but very much holding onto her.

“Rita…Y/N…I..didn’t realize you would be up here.”

“And I didn’t realize the prosecution was indulging in such a similar..arrangement.” Rita smirked.

“I’m sure we’re not the only ones.” Liz grinned in response, pocketing the credit card as she linked her hand with Casey, “It wouldn’t surprise me to find out Barba has some assistant fresh out of school to dangle along.”

“Oh, he’s fucking Carmen.” Yours and Casey’s words were practically in unison, small laughs leaving you at the looks from the other two women.

“Though she’s definitely not getting even close to what I’m sure we are.” Casey continued, exchanging a small smile with you.

“Sweetheart he’s a prosecutor, you know how little he can share.” Liz smiled toward the redhead, “We’re going to be late, we have reservations at Lulu, conveniently enough.” The four of you began to move past each other,

“Enjoy dinner.” Rita smiled.

“Enjoy dessert.” Liz shot the other woman a sly wink, resulting in a heavy blush from you and a sharp laugh from Casey as you made your separate ways through the street.

As it turned out, once you were back at the bungalow, it didn’t take long for either of you to begin your indulging in dessert. The coloured lights from the tree and the warmth of the fire illuminated the room, a slew of thick pillows and puffy soft blankets on top of the living room carpet making everything entirely too cozy. Rita’s kisses were soft, loving, ever filled with adoration and care as her hands swiftly rid you of your dress, yours making work of her own clothing before softly collapsing against the comfy pit in front of the couch.

You couldn’t help but gasp as her lips trailed down your neck, her fingers creating goosebumps across your exposed skin, pinching at your bare chest softly before a hand toyed with the band of your barely there underwear. Your lips met hers in a fiery kiss as her hand ducked underneath the fabric, you felt yourself clench at just the thought of her being anywhere near the most intimate part of you. Rita smirked against your lips at the feeling of your hand tightening in the roots of her hair as her finger slipped into you, groaning at the warmth that encased it. She pumped a few times, adding a second one, curling right against your sensitive spot as your lips broke free from hers, gasping into the room.

“Please…” You whined. She couldn’t help but chuckle,

“Since you asked so nicely darling.” Her lips gently met yours once more before moving down your body, more than eager to indulge, tugging your panties down your legs. Her lips traced up your thigh, nipping ever so softly at the supple skin before glancing up at you, smiling at the way your body shone in the fire light, flickers of light shooting over your frame. Your hand shot towards hers the instant her mouth made contact with your cunt, fingers interlocking as you tossed your head back, a moan echoing through the room. You swore you would never get over the feel of Rita’s mouth on you, it was like this was what she was put on this earth to do. You often joked she was so good with words in the courtroom, but was even better in the bedroom when it came to her mouth, and that tongue?! You could barely function. Not to mention her hands, though it took a little longer for you to notice them, there were days you were ever so distracted at work, thinking about all the much better things they could be doing with their time. Such as slipping into your dripping pussy while her lips sucked around your clit. Your breath’s became shaky, your hips twitching up against her mouth as her tongue flicked against your clit, the tender pads of her fingers dragging against your g-spot.

“Oh fuck!” You barely had time to get a word out before you were coming, and hard, panting in relief as she pulled her fingers from you. Rita moved up to your side, letting you regain your breath before kissing you gently.

“Merry Christmas.” She murmured against your lips, loving the feeling of your smile against hers.

“Merry Christmas.” You replied, “But I believe I was promised dessert…and only you indulged.” She laughed softly at your remark, “please?”

“Who am I to say no to you?” Rita smirked against your lips as you gently rolled her over into the wall of pillows.

Your hands traced their way up her sides, playing with her tits, rolling her nipples between your fingers as a soft groan echoed into your mouth. You kissed and nipped your way down her neck, hands trailing further down, pulling the lacy fabric from her, tossing it behind you in the room. Her breath hitched heavily at the feeling of your tongue swiping through her folds, lapping as much of her essence as you could. You softly moaned at the feeling of her hand digging into the roots of your hair, the vibrations against her pussy causing her to shudder before her hips shot up as you flicked at her clit. God as much as you loved the feeling of her mouth against you, the taste of her cunt against your lips was far superior. You delved in as deep as you could, tongue chasing every last lap of juice that it could before moving up to wrap around her clit. A whimper of a gasp echoed through the room as you did so, sliding your fingers in, curling and pumping them with precision, it didn’t take long before you could feel the fluttering around them. You increased the pressure of your mouth around her, the pace of your fingers, smirking against her as her hips shuddered and stilled around you.

Even when she was the one coming back to earth, Rita was always the caregiver, her heaving chest making a happy home for your head as you curled around her in your fort of blankets and pillows, the firelight dancing throughout the room. You kissed her shoulder softly, murmuring how much you loved her, snuggling deeper into her frame as she recovered, your hands lightly tracing her skin.

When she’d finally fully come back to earth you felt her lips kiss your hair, stilling against it in a moment of love, of thanks as she held you to her. Your arm around her wrapped tighter, a smile ever evident on your cheeks. The fire danced in front of you, the soft glow from the tree lights reflecting off your bodies while the ever so quiet playlist oozed through the house. You took the time to silently appreciate each other, happy that you could be in each other’s arms over this holiday season. That you’d found each other in such a downtrodden and intense world. You both knew how lucky you were, how incredibly lucky you were, and you never wanted to forget it.

“Hey…” You murmured, not moving your face from the crook of her neck.

“Yes darling?”

“I’m…not stealing you away from some extravagant family Christmas am I?” You paused, “I mean…you clearly have family money so you’re not shunned or anything..or..oh god is there—“ Rita chuckled softly, cutting off your panic.

“There’s no crazy accidents leaving me sole provider, don’t worry.” Her lips hit your head gently, “It’s just my Mother left, she’s not exactly…approving of my..life choices. Like you guessed, we grew up privileged, and republican…We agreed to disagree years ago, she’d leave me be as long as she could tell everyone I was a powerful New York lawyer married to the job. In return I got to be who I wanted to be as long as I never brought someone home.”

“That sucks…I’m sorry…” you felt her lips against your head again.

“It really doesn’t if it means I get to spend the time with who I want to. And I’d always rather be with someone who I love who loves me for who I am.”

“Despite the ice cold defence attorney front you put up, you are the sweetest person I know.” You joked, not surprised at the way the hand wrapped around you swatted at your hip gently.

“What about you?” She asked softly, “Does your family know?”

“I’m pretty sure my Dad manifested it.” You laughed, “He wanted a boy so badly, I was their only kid. I grew up playing baseball, making tree forts, mega tomboy, I knew how to fix a car by the time I was 14. When I told him I liked girls he wasn’t surprised at all.” She could feel you smile at the memory, “Anytime we were watching movies he’d always ask if I thought the actress was cute,” you laughed, “hell, anytime he visited me at school he’d give me that look everytime I intoduced him to anyone, wondering if I was hiding something.”

“He was just over reading into it?” She half laughed,

“Yeah.” You laughed back, snuggling deeper against her. The silence and soft Christmas music took over the room again. A soft hum coming from your lips at the feel of Rita’s lips on your skin again, the way her arms tightened around you.

“Can..I ask you something…that may be personal?” Your head shifted slightly to gain her eyeline, all things considered you’d crossed some personal questioning already tonight.

“‘Course.”

“Why don’t you want to take the Bar?” You felt part of your heart jump into your throat and you weren’t quite sure why.

“I-uh—It’s been so long…I’m scared I won’t pass.”

“Y/N..” Rita’s voice slightly hardened into her work voice, “every day you work for me you’re doing an attorney’s job, and you know that. You spend a hell of a lot more time buried in law books, you’ll do great, and you deserve to be getting the credit and the salary.”

“I know..” She didn’t miss the way that you avoided her eye, burying into her neck again, “I’m just not sure I can do it now.”

“Darling…” Rita’s hand softly stroked down your neck and back as her lips hit your head softly, “I think there’s more to this than you realize.” Her words were so incredibly soft you couldn’t help but glance up to her eyes, the fire light sparkling between you.

“Okay?”

“Promise me you won’t be mad. If you hate what I have to say, take some time to process it before hating me.”

“I could never!” Rita shot you a glare, “Okay..I’ll forgive you if I hate you for this.” She kissed you softly, cupping your cheek gently in her hand, the ever affectionate gleam in her eyes, kissing the tip of your nose gently.

“I think….that you being at Harvard, that your graduation, you becoming a lawyer was a very large milestone with you and your father. And that you dropped everything when he got sick. Which I admire greatly, you are one in a million that would do what you did. You dropped it all to selflessly take care of someone else who only wanted to see you succeed.” She paused to wrap her arm tighter around you, kissing your forehead again, “I feel like now…you associate writing..and passing the bar as turning your back on your father. The thought of it means the thought of moving on, specifically without him. You dropped it all to care for him, so if you suddenly start back up, you’re leaving him behind. Which… believe me darling, you’re not.”

She let you bury yourself in her shoulder first, her arms wrapping tightly around you as the fire crackled through the room. It took a few moments before you spoke again, your head rolling to meet her gaze,

“I guess I’ve never thought about it that way.”

“Darling he would be so proud of you to know you went forward with your career.”

“I know..” You flushed.

“If you write next term, there’ll be a spot open for you at the firm by the time you pass, Germain’s retiring and we’ll need some new blood.”

“You’re not just offering this as a present are you?” You laughed.

“Never” Rita’s lips met yours, “I’m offering because you deserve it.” She kissed you again, “Now c’mon, it’s late, bed’s waiting.”

“I can’t argue that.” You giggled against her lips as she tugged you up, wrapping a blanket around your bodies as she lead you to the bedroom.

#rita calhoun #rita calhoun x reader #law and order #law and order svu #sugar mommy #svu #law and order special victims unit

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