#onto the sales floor and telling them to figure it out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mypoisonedvine · 1 year

Text

𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲 | emmett x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | after being rescued from your captors, tension grows between you and the man that killed to save you.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | nearly 11K (?!?! WTF?)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only!!), angst, kind of a slow burn?, age gap (reader is twenty, emmett is late forties), pining, voyeurism, dark themes (slavery/kidnapping, discussions of noncon and loss, but emmett is not dark he's nice!!), traumatized reader (and emmett, let's be real, nobody's not traumatized here), violence (use of guns) and minor character death

This was where you waited— at his feet. Every deal, every ‘business meeting’, every mission report, you sat there on the floor beside his legs. He wanted everyone else to know your place just as much as you did.

Living with smugglers and looters like this was a rough life— but the man who bought you, Paul (though you only knew his name from hearing others speak to him) insisted you had a better life in here as his ‘pet’ than out there running missions for him, finding valuables to barter and sell. Considering there were plenty of missions that not everyone made it back from, you knew he kind of had a point.

But even so, it didn’t exactly feel luxurious being a man’s property. You’d been looked at like a thing, like less than human, like a piece of meat since you got here; and you’d been here just long enough to get really used to it. You sat here on the floor while Paul, his men, and his customers stood or at least sat on chairs.

That was why it felt so different, so shocking, when he looked at you. The man that came today, to trade with Paul. He was lean and gaunt, it was obvious even with his heavy layers of clothes; he had long hair on his head and face, but his icy stare pierced through… and it was concentrated on you from the moment he stepped into the smugglers’ compound.

He didn’t say anything, even when one of Paul’s men shut the bunker door and it was safe to talk— he didn’t react much on his face, either, staying stoic and flat. But it was obvious that you had his attention, even your ‘owner’ noticed that.

“Just bought her,” Paul explained with a proud grin as he tightened his grip on your wrist; you winced slightly. “Slavers picked her up just past the lake, she’d been camping out there for not even a week… don’t know where she was hiding before that. Isn’t she cute?”

You figured that was why he brought you here— to show you off. You, like the guards at either end of the room and by the door, were a symbol of Paul’s power. The other man just looked away from you, and back at Paul. “Can we get to business?” he asked in a rough voice.

“Of course,” Paul replied with that customer service smile of his, dropping your wrist which you held yourself right away. “You’ve got a few extra guns, and we have some extra cans of food— good shit, too, not just soggy old veggies. Or, maybe we can throw in some medical supplies, if you have ammo for those weapons,” Paul explained, gesturing to the table of goods for trade. “Whaddaya think?”

The man was silent, looking blankly ahead at the cans and boxes before him. “How much for her?” he asked suddenly, lowly.

Your heart stopped for a moment; feeling the man’s gaze run over you, you looked away and pressed your lips together. “Oh, she caught your eye, huh?” Paul purred. “Sorry, pal— not for sale. But the folks I bought her from had a couple other girls, how’s about I tell them where to find you and they can strike up a deal of their own?”

The man shook his head. “Her. I want her.”

Paul did that thing he did where he sat up straighter, and dropped his smile; you bit down on your lip to hide a whimper, because you got very fucking scared whenever he did that. “If you’re not interested in what’s available, you’d better just leave now and keep your guns, old man.”

He paused for a moment, nodding in acceptance. “Alright,” he said, “I think I will.”

He held tighter onto his gun, looking down at it for a moment.

“After all, this thing’s pretty damn useful.”

It was only a couple seconds of pure chaos. He shot Paul first, then stood up and took down all three men in the back of the room— one of them pulled his pistol fast enough to fire back, but he missed, and in a split-second he was on the ground with the others. You screamed, covering your head with your hands; your ears were ringing, and your whole body shook with shivers as you dared to glance over at the bleeding, lifeless bodies just a few feet away.

“C’mon,” the man said— it took you a half-second to realize he was talking to you, even though you were the only other living person in the room, “grab what you can. We need to run.”

We. He just killed them all, like it was nothing… for you. And now you were a we?

Shuddering, you could only shake your head. “N-no, no,” you choked out, whining when he grabbed you and yanked you to your feet; you could hear the commotion outside the room, it wouldn’t be long before someone from one of the nearby bunkers came to investigate the gunshots.

“They’re coming, and they’ll kill us both,” he growled at you, far too close to your face, and you felt your lip quivering. “Help me carry this shit and let’s go.”

It was a long walk back to… wherever he was taking you. Since you ran from the compound with your stolen supplies, you obviously hadn’t said anything to each other— you’d barely even looked at him, for some reason you were scared to.

The only interaction you’d had since you started your trek was when he noticed you shivering, and stopped to take off his jacket and give it to you; considering all you were wearing was a baggy old t-shirt and socks, it helped a lot against the chilly gusts of wind. It was awkward in the silence, not being able to reject the jacket or even thank him for it, so you just nodded as he slipped it on you. It was baggy even on him so it fit you even more awkwardly, but it made your shivers soothe instantly.

He guided you on the trail, keeping his gun close by, and eventually you came to some kind of processing plant; with what little you knew about manufacturing, your glances around the factory made you guess it was once a metallurgy building. Now it was abandoned, and as you climbed down the ladder he pointed you towards, you realized he was taking you right into some horrible small space— with a massive iron door. You hesitated, but he silently gestured you forward; your heart raced, knowing you had no chance of escape from a place like that. Not that you ever really stood a chance of escape from someone as capable as he had proved himself to be so far— but the idea of going into that little room with him made you feel a bit sick. It reminded you of your first day with Paul, of having all your freedom and dignity torn away, and you wondered if this was all just the beginning of another cycle: out of the frying pan, into the fire.

But you had no choice: you stepped forward, crawling into the little nook, and he followed behind you and shut the large round door.

It was pitch black for a moment, and you felt a sort of primal fear— would he really do this here, in complete darkness— would he really force himself on you? You tried to scoot as far away as you could, until a hard wall hit your back; but you knew there was nothing you could do to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to you now, and you closed your eyes in hopes he wouldn’t be cruel. But within a few seconds, he’d taken out a camping lantern and opened it, filling the room with a sort of speckled white light, and you opened your eyes slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked first, and you weren’t sure how to answer that. “My name’s Emmett,” he informed you quietly. “Don’t… you don’t need to worry, alright? I won’t hurt you.”

You shrunk away slightly, holding your legs to your chest. Paul had said the same thing, but then again, he’d never actually said it like he meant it. In fact, what he’d said exactly was I won’t hurt you if you behave. And he still did. Because he could.

“I don’t wanna— I won’t do anything with ya,” Emmett explained, and you could’ve sworn you saw a slight blush above that long beard. “Just couldn’t leave that place knowing you were there, against your will and all… it’s not right, keeping people like that, keeping girls…”

You looked away, eventually giving him a small nod as a response. You wanted to believe him, he sounded genuine, but you weren’t ready to trust a stranger you saw kill four men so casually.

“Mind tellin’ me your name?” he encouraged softly.

You mumbled it into your arms into the fabric of the old t-shirt which still smelled like the prison he’d broken you out of.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he pressed.

You said it again, louder, and he smiled a bit at you; you smiled back, too, but it was partially hidden by the tattered shirt’s sleeve.

“Pretty,” he said. “M’gonna keep you safe here, alright? I-I mean, you don’t have to stay here. You can go back wherever you want, I just… I figure you might end up where I found you again if you go out there on your own. No offense.”

You nodded; you weren’t cut out for making it on your own out there, you weren’t too proud to admit that. You used to run with a group of survivors, which made it much easier to get by, but you’d been naive enough to think you could reject the group leader’s advances without suffering consequences: they left you in the night, without a word, and you only made it one more day on your own before getting captured by slavers. That felt like a lifetime ago now, like stories that happened to a whole other person, but it wasn’t actually that long— Paul bought you a few weeks ago at most. Still, those few weeks had changed you as a person, and you went from being terrified of being alone to being terrified of everyone else. Maybe you were still an impossible mix of both…

“I have a decent set-up here… some food and water, a little more since we took some from your old friends back there,” he chuckled nervously. “And, uh, you can sleep in here… sorry it’s so small, never really planned to share it… I— I can find another place to sleep if this isn’t enough room—“

“Why are you doing this?” you interrupted, and he seemed startled to hear you talk so much.

“Huh?”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked again. “For me? I mean… you don’t know me.”

“Well, I could,” he shrugged, “you could tell me about you.”

“But why did you save me?”

“I said so already, I couldn’t leave you there with those men. Young girl stuck in that place, just about the worst thing I can imagine…”

“M’not that young,” you protested, “I’m twenty.”

He smiled a little. “Of course. Sorry.”

You sighed, relaxing slightly, and he seemed to lower his own shoulders as well.

“You seem tired,” he noticed. “It was a long walk.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I used to be able to walk a long way, but I lost my stamina— I wasn’t really going very far when I was there, you know…”

“I’m sure,” Emmett agreed. “You hungry? We could eat something.”

“Um, maybe…” you mumbled nervously. You felt nervous to ask for anything of him— like he might ask you for something in return. It wouldn’t be absurd of him to expect some kind of repayment for saving you; but if he expected that, then he wouldn’t be much of a savior after all.

“I saw granola bars in one of the bags we took,” he said. “Sometimes I still get nervous, opening something crinkly like that— but nothing can hear us in here, I promise. You’re safe.”

You hesitated before nodding; safe. That sounded nice. Now you just had to convince yourself it was true.

You’d noticed him looking at you a lot this evening, while you were both preparing dinner; you tried not to react to it. He kept glancing at you, just for a moment, like he thought you wouldn’t notice. You just kept focusing on the work at hand— peeling an orange— and tried not to think about why he kept looking at you. Maybe he had something to say, but that would be odd since he usually didn’t. Maybe you were doing this wrong somehow, or he was jealous that you were going to eat that fruit as an appetizer before the real meal.

Or maybe he just found you appeeling!

You snorted a little involuntarily, amused by your own joke, and he looked at you again. “You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, fighting a smile as you shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

And the silence continued. Even for a time when most everyone was quiet by necessity, Emmett was quiet. He had this special place, somewhere safe enough to talk, but he didn’t often utilize that privilege; or at least, he hadn’t since you got here a few days ago, but there wouldn’t have been anyone to talk to before then. You figured he just didn’t have a lot to say— and it’s not like you were some kind of conversation queen either. You didn’t ask about him or his life before this, even though you were actually pretty curious: you just watched him, and if he noticed, he didn’t react to it. This was the first time he seemed to be returning some of that attention.

“You can talk about it, if you want,” he suggested suddenly, making you furrow your brow a bit.

“About what?” you asked, not taking your eyes off your orange in progress, but you knew already what he meant.

“About how you came to be where I found you,” he said. “Don’t have to— I wouldn’t wanna talk about it, if I was you— but if you do… I just want you to know you can tell me.”

You shrugged, keeping yourself from looking up at him. “Why do you wanna know?”

“I don’t,” he insisted. “But sometimes I can tell you’re thinking about it.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked away; here you were, wearing the clothes he’d given you, living in his ‘home’, surviving off of him. On paper, it was the same as it had been before— that’s why you were thinking about it. But it was night and day: Paul gave you rags to wear, if that, and Emmett had you in his own clothes— comfy plaids and knitted sweaters that smelled shockingly good for any apocalypse survivor; Emmett had a few creature comforts here, art and decent food and pillows… Paul’s bunker was exactly as flat and rigid and cold as the word ‘bunker’ indicates; and surviving with Emmett felt the most like real living since you were with your old group— though you knew them infinitely better.

“But we don’t have to—” he began again, shaking his head like he regretted the whole idea.

“Who are those pictures of?” you asked, interrupting him.

“Pictures…” he mumbled.

“The ones you hid,” you said, “or tried to hide. Drawings, paintings—”

“You shouldn’t have been looking there,” he said firmly, looking down.

“I know,” you breathed, “but you were gone— I was bored—”

“Gone getting you food,” he reminded you, pointing with his knife— don’t worry, he was just peeling a potato with it— to the orange in your hand.

“Us,” you corrected, “we’re both eating. And I’m sorry… you don’t have to tell me, either. We can just have another quiet dinner.”

He paused before sighing a bit, looking at you and then back to his half-peeled vegetable. “My sons,” he said quietly. “Those are my sons. Were my sons…”

“I know,” you whispered, and he looked at you quizzically. “I could tell, I mean— you have that look in your eyes, I knew you’d lost someone.”

He shrugged. “Everyone lost someone. Some lost everyone.”

You almost found the energy to smile, but it came out more like pressing your lips together. “Yeah,” you agreed. “They kinda look like you, in the pictures. You’re talented.”

“Oh, I didn’t draw them,” he scoffed, “no way— I couldn’t draw a circle. It was my wife.”

Why did you get a little pit in your stomach when he said that. “You’re married?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, “but she— um, she passed. Not too long ago. Well… I guess a few months is a while ago. But it still feels new.”

You nervously looked down at the orange in your hands, peeling off the last strip of skin and picking off a few white chunks of pith here and there. Not sure what to say, you simply pulled a segment off of the rest and reached over with it, offering it to him. “Here,” you said, and he looked at the piece of fruit in your hand before looking at you.

“No, s’fine,” he shook his head, “I’ll eat when dinner’s ready.”

“Come on,” you insisted, shaking it a little as if that would make it more enticing. “You’re working up an appetite peeling the spuds. Just have a few.”

Finally, he relented. “Thanks,” he said, taking it and putting it in his mouth. He chewed for a moment, working on the potato still, but he talked a bit around it just before he swallowed. “You don’t have kids, do you?”

You shook your head, laughing. “No, do I seem old enough for that?”

“No,” he agreed, “but you know— stuff happens.”

“I wanted them someday,” you admitted, “but no. I actually, uh… I was pretty nervous about getting pregnant in the bunker…”

He swallowed, for more than just the orange. Looking at you, you found his stare somehow both intimidating and comforting.

“I shouldn’t complain too much,” you shook your head, “he wasn’t that bad. He was more interested in showing me off to others than actually doing too much when we were alone.”

“You shouldn’t complain too much about being a sex slave to a smuggler?” he repeated incredulously, like he was offended on your behalf by what you had said.

“I was just a trophy,” you shrugged, “I was the most expensive thing he owned. It was all business with him: he wanted you— you know, anybody who bought from him— to know he was capable of that. Of owning somebody. And, um… that only happened twice. Once the first night, and then, um… well—”

“You don’t have to say,” he offered you softly. “It’s okay if you just never wanna think about him again. I certainly sleep better at night knowing I turned his head inside out.”

You smiled a little, even though the image of that still haunted you. “No, it’s fine. I think it’s easier to just treat it like anything else. Like, one time I broke my arm, one time my pet cat died, one time this gang captured me and sold me to a trader in exchange for pills and pickles— just something that happened that I hated and now… now it’s over.”

Now I’m safe. You could talk about it because you finally believed that Emmett wouldn’t put you through it again. When you looked at him, he smiled at you a little; you popped a piece of the orange into your mouth.

“S’good,” you mumbled as you chewed, giving him another piece and feeling the tips of his fingers just barely brush yours as he accepted it.

A few days later, he did the same thing: interrupted your silent meal with a sudden interjection. “Y’ever shot a gun before?” he asked, and you awkwardly shook your head. He sighed. “Alright, well, you should learn. Case something happens.”

“Guns don’t work on those things,” you noticed.

“They work on people,” he replied. “And you’ve had a lot more trouble with them.”

You shrugged, certainly in no place to deny that. “Guns are loud,” you reminded him.

“A little noise is worth it,” Emmett promised, “if it’s you or them. And if you’re not packing, then it’ll be you. You need to learn.”

Not if I have you with me, you almost blurted out. Thankfully, you stopped yourself and nodded in agreement instead.

“I’ll teach you up there,” he gestured towards the world above with a quick tilt of his head, “unloaded. Obviously.”

Going up to the surface was a strange feeling. You hadn’t felt this safe anywhere since this global nightmare began, honestly, and you were almost spoiled by it now— here, with Emmett, you were sure that nothing would come to harm you. But up there? You knew, logically, that it was usually alright as long as you kept quiet, but you were pretty fucking quiet when the slavers found you.

Even being down here alone gave you the smallest tinge of anxiety— that someone might find you and steal you while Emmett was out foraging— and you never navigated the forest alone. You had the feeling that Emmett was teaching you to use a gun so that you could do just that, but it didn’t sound worth it to be away from him.

But, you had to admit, you sort of enjoyed the lessons.

He stood behind you, wrapping you up in his arms as he corrected your stance. Out here, he had to speak under his breath beside your ear, and it made chills run up your spine. “Align the sights,” he told you, tapping the small metal divot on top of the pistol.

You nodded, shutting one eye tight and trying to aim better; adjusting your head to get the right stance just pushed you up against his shoulder more, and you tried not to lean back into him.

“Pull the trigger when you’re ready,” he instructed; he was barely making any sound at all, more shaping a breath around his words than really speaking.

Even knowing it wouldn’t go off, you started to shrink away as you pulled the trigger; it was heavier than you expected, forcing you to strain to turn the revolver.

“Don’t flinch,” he warned. “Stay steady.”

You still did, a little bit, but you calmed yourself with a breath and tried not to pre-emptively react: when you finally pulled the trigger all the way, the revolver turned with a click, but that was it.

“Good,” he said simply.

“How can you know?” you asked. “Without shooting anything—”

“You’re not using a bullet for practice,” he reminded you with a frown.

“I know, I know— I just mean, how can you know I would’ve hit what I was aiming at?”

“As long as these line up,” he replied as he touched the sights again, “and you don’t flinch, you will.”

You nodded, hoping that was enough, but then he took the revolver and took his shotgun off of his back. “I— I can’t shoot that thing—”

“Yes you can,” he promised, shaking his head dismissively. “The rifle— you can’t shoot that. That requires a steady hand.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were shaking as you took the shotgun from him, so you couldn’t exactly deny it. And, furthermore, the whole point of the sniper rifle was to get things that were far away… you were only planning to use these things if something got too close.

A lot of things had gotten more natural with Emmett— you talked sometimes, you ate together, he even let you come with him on trips out sometimes. But one thing that never really changed was how weird it was to sleep beside him; what did change was why it was weird.

From the beginning, you couldn’t sleep unless you knew where he was. Even if you couldn’t fully trust him then, you still had that anxiety of being abandoned in the night like you had before you were captured; for better or for worse, Emmett was obviously tough enough to protect you and was the only thing between you and certain death or enslavement out there in the world.

As a result, he’d been sleeping beside you, just to get you to stop waking up in cold sweats as often. And now that you trusted him and knew him a little better, you expected it to be easier to sleep with him there… if anything, you were getting less sleep than ever.

You were struggling to understand why— or maybe you were just struggling to accept it— but having him right beside you all night kept you up, kept your heart beating fast, kept you listening to the sound of his breathing instead of just focusing on your own.

At least tonight, you could blame it on the cold. You both had on several layers, but it was pretty much impossible to keep a space like this warm— underground, uninsulated— and it was only getting colder since the sun set.

"Chilly," you announced as you pulled the blankets up higher, and Emmett hummed in agreement. That was the extent of your bravery, you couldn't bring yourself to ask him outright if he'd move a little closer so you could share some heat.

You waited a few minutes, wondering if he was already asleep, and then reached towards him in the dark; but when your hand brushed against him, he shrugged it away. Turning his back to you, he seemed to huddle up a little bit more as if shrinking away from you, and you sighed.

“You don’t have to be so far,” you whispered, and he sighed.

“Yes, I do,” he insisted, stern yet soft-spoken.

“Please, Emmett, it’s cold…”

“I know, sweetheart, I just… I wanna do right by ya, that’s all,” he sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with holding me to warm up,” you sighed. “I mean, it’s not like you’re… thinking about anything else.”

“Of course,” he choked, “okay, fine, if you’re cold… c’mere, then.”

You wiggled your way closer as he rolled onto his back, sighing when you felt how warm he was even through his clothes. Pressing your head to his chest, you heard his breath catch as you lifted your leg to drape over his, trying to get him as close as possible.

He seemed to hesitate first, but then he relaxed slightly and rested his arms around your back.

It had been a long time since someone held you like this. You sunk into his arms, loving how it felt to be pressed into him, and you let out a little hum of satisfaction as your shivers went away and his warmth began to absorb.

He seemed tense beneath you at times, and you feared that doing this would keep him from sleeping; but, frankly, you were desperate enough for your own sleep that you weren’t planning on worrying too much about his… you quite literally didn’t plan on losing any sleep over it.

It was impossible to say how long you'd been asleep— you weren't even fully awake yet— but when you started to stir, you felt him shifting under you. But you were taken from half-consciousness into pure lucidity when you felt a harder, hotter shape against your inner thigh; didn't take a detective to figure out he had an erection. You shouldn't have reacted, you realized it a second too late, but you had to gasp when you felt it— mostly because it seemed quite thick even though his pajama trousers—

“I’m sorry,” he breathed right away.

"It's okay," you assured, but he kept going.

“I can’t help it— I don’t mean anything by it, I just… I’m only a man.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated softly, though your face had never felt so hot. “I understand, it’s normal—“

He started to pull away, and you whined as you grabbed at his shoulders.

“Wait, you don’t have to go,” you gasped, “I won’t be able to sleep…”

“Well, it’s never gonna go away with you pressed up to me!” he grunted. “C’mon, sweetheart, gimme a chance here…”

“I really don’t mind it, Emmett—“

"I do," he snapped. "You're young— younger than you realize."

"I'm grown," you promised, but he peeled you off of him and turned away.

"Go to sleep," he demanded.

"But—"

"Just go back to sleep!" he ordered.

Though you weren't sure how you were supposed to sleep with your heart racing and your mind playing the moment you felt his cock against your leg on loop, you decided you would try just because his stern voice sort of scared you into obeying.

It did work, eventually— you can only lay down in the dark for so long before sleep is unavoidable— but you still awoke sometime later, and heard him breathing differently beside you. There was no light to see what he was doing, but you could hear his arm moving against the blanket under him— and when you heard him sigh, you imagined that he might be jerking off. Maybe his erection wouldn't go away until he did that, and you bit your lip as you tried to picture it: stroking himself, breathing deeply, being careful not to make too much noise or even move too much. But in your head, he was too desperate, struggling to hold himself back from bucking up into his palm, his cock flexing as his orgasm threatened to spill over at any moment.

The thought made you want to touch yourself, too— you were getting wet already and your hips shifted in hopes of finding something to rub against— but you were far too afraid to get caught or startle Emmett into stopping.

You heard a tense sigh and all that motion behind you stopped; you bit your lip as you wondered if he just came. And if he did, what had he been thinking of? He seemed so offended by the idea of being attracted to you— he didn't even acknowledge it, like it was wrong to even suggest— but you hoped somehow that he had been imagining you. If only he could've told you, if only he had pulled you closer in the dark and asked you to take care of his problem for him… maybe you should've been ashamed for thinking it, but you would've spread your legs for him right away if he'd told you he wanted you. Even if it was just taking care of his needs, not real love— even if it was only a practical thing. You couldn't do much for him, but you could certainly help in that regard.

But, at the same time, you knew that if Emmett ever did use you in such a way, you'd fall in love with him. Even if it meant nothing to him, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself; you couldn't admit to yourself how close you were to that edge already, but you couldn't deny how quickly you would fall over it if he ended up fucking you.

Or maybe it wouldn't be like that— fucking, that is; it's a rather crass way to put it. Maybe it wouldn't be that way, maybe it would be gentle and sweet and passionate. He certainly was kind to you, and unexpectedly patient… you wondered if that would translate into him being delicate with you, soft touches and slow kisses— really making love, you know.

Or, maybe he'd been alone so long that he wouldn't be able to help himself; maybe he'd just have to moan in your ear while he took you roughly, holding tight to your hips so you couldn't do anything but take him just the way he wanted. Maybe he'd leave bruises and marks on your skin, reminders of his work, and bite down on you to keep himself from being too loud.

Your back was arching into nothing, just hoping that he would turn around and pull you close, press his chest into your back, and whisper in your ear as he started to tug your pants down. Sorry, sweetheart, I just need you too bad…

It was a miracle you ever fell back asleep with that thought in your mind. But you did, somehow— a frustratingly dreamless sleep— and when you woke up in the morning, he was gone again.

Since that night, you’d felt this tension between you— but you had no clue if he felt it, too. He was nice, in his own way, but definitely on the aloof side; and he seemed to avoid you a little more after all that happened anyway. It sort of made you wonder if he resented you, if he was angry with you somehow for what happened— maybe you’d been too pushy, you were never trying to force him into anything of course— but then again, you figured he wouldn’t be working so hard to take care of you both if that were the case.

Even if you couldn’t hunt or even cook very well, you tried to be helpful in various ways; this little underground hideout was certainly tidier and cozier than it had ever been before, and you tried to take pride in that instead of thinking of yourself as useless to him. And all his clothes were mended, you made sure of that; he seemed to appreciate it, at least.

Now that you thought of it, you were sort of becoming a homemaker now— you felt a bit conflicted at the realization. There’s nothing wrong with it, right? Just being here, helping how you can? But you wanted to be more useful, if you could— you just didn’t know how.

(Well, you had ideas… but you weren’t about to suggest that, after how awkward it all was last time.)

Maybe just your company was enough for him, otherwise he probably wouldn’t still keep you around… but then again, for someone who apparently wanted your company, he wasn’t so talkative. It would make more sense if you two were up all night, telling each other everything about your lives and your dreams and anything you could possibly remember to talk about— but it wasn’t like that at all. He still avoided personal questions even after nearly a month together, and he had a tendency to just hum and nod or shake his head when you asked him something.

But, the good news was, you’d gotten a little more comfortable leaving the underground hideout without him. You never went far, obviously, but you went far enough to stretch your legs and get some fresh air and, today, stumble upon a little clearing with a pond. It was relatively small, but deep, and best of all it had a river that fed into it, over a cliff; to put it more plainly, it had a waterfall. It was small— you figured it probably didn’t pour at all unless there had been good rainfall recently— but it still meant you had a little more freedom here than usual. Ambient noise, as you understood it, deterred the creatures because they couldn’t stop it and couldn’t hear other sounds over it. You weren’t about to belt out Whitney Houston or anything, but you could make some sound— and the sound you made right away when you saw it was getting your clothes off as fast as you could and diving right in.

The water was a little cold— okay, very fucking cold— but it was worth it: being able to clean yourself more thoroughly than normal was quite a treat, and one you planned on relishing.

You found yourself laughing— you sort of couldn’t stop, actually. Partially because you were cold and shivering like crazy, partially because you were giddy… mostly just because you could. You kept your clothes and revolver in a neat pile by the cliff wall, trying not to stray too far from it in case someone came by; but, at the same time, you were also trying to just forget about everything that scared you for a moment and be free.

You soaked your hair and ran your hands over your face, letting the water renew your skin— you couldn’t deny this cold plunge was invigorating, if not especially relaxing like a hot bath would’ve been. But hot baths were obviously rare in these times, and you closed your eyes as you tried to remember the last one you took. You leaned back in the water, floating partially against the flow of the waterfall behind you, and remembered simpler times: long baths, fresh meals,

Not everything was perfect then. Your life was easier, yes, but you’d still longed for someone to share it with. Someone to trust. You opened your eyes and looked up at the sky, a pale grey-ish blue that covered the sun but was still somehow too bright and made you squint; you sighed, moving your arms enough to feel the water swirl between your fingers.

For some reason, you thought of Emmett just then; you wanted to tell him about this place as soon as he got back home, you could bring him here and he could swim too— he probably wouldn’t skinny dip with you, right? Definitely seemed out of his comfort zone, he wouldn’t even sleep next to you at night anymore… but you still giggled at the thought, wondering if you’d get a chance to see the rest of his tattoo that you’d noticed peeking out from his sleeve sometimes. Then you could ask him about it, move closer, trace the lines with your finger; you could watch the goosebumps prickle on his skin from the cold water, and shiver even more when you met his gaze—

You shook your head like it might knock the thought out of your brain. He’d made it clear he didn’t have that sort of interest in you. It broke your heart a little, but you had no choice but to accept it. Still, you had this nagging feeling that it wasn’t you— he implied before it was your age, or some kind of chivalry thing; and then there was all that grief, something anybody left had to have by now.

You, too, had lost loved ones that day, and in the days since— that was unavoidable— but what you had nearly lost most of all was yourself. And then he found you, and you’d found something you’d been looking for for so long… much longer than all this.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard something moving, just past the trees; you whipped around in the water, looking everywhere for the source of the noise, and you saw a figure slip back behind a trunk. You’d never felt so sick with terror all at once, and in a second, you leaned over and snatched your revolver off the top of your pile of clothes.

Pointing it at the tree, you wondered if you should be barking out orders right now— come out with your hands up or something— but that wouldn’t be helpful if there was a creature nearby… or if there was more than one person in these woods. You swallowed, knowing a revolver wasn’t going to cut it if there was a whole group closing in on you now.

Slowly moving through the water, you walked up the bank of the pond, and when you heard another shifting movement from behind the tree, you shuddered and shut one of your eyes. Align the sights. Stay steady.

Suddenly, the figure stepped out, and you didn’t even stop to think: you pulled the trigger and fired, eyes shutting tight as the kickback flung your arms up and the sound echoed through the forest.

You hesitated to open your eyes, but just before you did, you heard a groan— in a voice all too familiar. When you looked, there was a man on the ground, and your heart stopped again when you saw his face.

“Fuck! Emmett!” you yelped, running the rest of the way out of the water and not caring at all that you were naked and dripping— you ran up to him and straddled him as he rolled on the ground, clutching his arm. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry— oh my god! Please, please tell me you’re okay—”

He didn’t say anything, in fact his face was still screwed into a tight wince as you tried to see where he was holding— his arm, just below the shoulder, you could see where the sleeve of his jacket was torn and blood had begun to stain the fabric.

“Emmett, Jesus, I swear to god— I didn’t know it was you, I—” you began to promise, before you wondered if you should ask what the hell he was doing there. Why didn’t you tell me it was you? Why didn’t you say something? But you decided, as you watched him bite his lip to keep from being any louder, that now was not the time to interrogate him; shooting him had clearly irritated him enough already. “That— that was fucking loud,” you realized, lowering your voice. “We need to go back before—”

He just nodded, and you got up off of him to help him up and grab your clothes— a naked woman and a bleeding man running through the woods. Maybe that’s just a normal day in the post-apocalypse.

He hissed when you applied the disinfectant to the cut, looking away rather than letting you see how this affected him— that, or the other side of the room suddenly got incredibly interesting. But you knew as well as anyone, living in this room for over a month, that it was not very interesting.

“God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, wincing yourself just having to put him through this. “Can I keep going, or—?”

He nodded, still looking the other direction, and you gave him a sympathetic frown as you started to dab at the cut.

It wasn’t too deep, thank heavens— it probably didn’t even need stitches, just some alcohol and gauze— but you still felt more guilty than you had for anything you’d ever done in your life. “Thank god I missed,” you chuckled softly, wondering if it was still too soon for humor— and he didn’t laugh, so maybe it was.

“Yeah— you flinched,” he noticed, sounding correctional, and your jaw almost dropped.

“Fucking— are you serious, Emmett?” you snapped. “You’re mad at me for not killing you?!”

“You didn’t know it was me,” he replied.

You sighed, thankful he was looking away so he wouldn’t catch your eyeroll. “Of course,” you breathed. “Of course I didn’t know it was you— I would’ve never…”

He looked at you again. “I know,” he promised quietly.

You chewed your lip and nodded.

Taking the bloodied rag away, you looked at the wound— it was a lot better already, and it looked clean, and you still couldn’t imagine forgiving yourself for doing it to him. You took out a bandage and started to wrap it up around the gash.

“Your ink’s still intact,” you noticed, smiling as you got your look at the tattoo— although you obviously didn’t mean to go through all this just to see it. You didn’t trace the lines but you did run your fingers over the whole piece: a mountainscape, with tall trees and a cloudy sky. “It’s pretty.”

He snorted a little. “I was just a kid when I got that— tryin’ to be tough. Definitely wasn’t going for ‘pretty’.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have gotten this lovely view,” you smiled back. “Is this a real place?”

“Yeah, Montana— grew up there,” he said. “Always thought I’d go back, then I had my kids— and then, you know—”

“Right,” you nodded, finishing up your gauze-ing of the damage. You were gonna let him put his shirt back on, not that you really wanted him to, but he didn’t yet. “Must have been nice, growing up under mountains like these.”

He shrugged. “It was— sometimes. It was quiet, I’ll tell you that. All I wanted was to escape, back then. Then all I wanted was to go back.”

You smiled a little. “Yeah, I know that feeling— I mean, I think everyone feels like that. I always wanted to move to the city— New York, you know,” you said with a whimsical affect on your words, “it’s like a mythical place to anybody from anywhere else.”

He chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck (with his uninjured arm) and nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I get that. But then how’d you end up in the suburbs? Or— don’t tell me you came all the way from the city—”

“No, no, not that far,” you promised, “but I was a little closer to it before everything happened. I, uh… I actually ended up in the suburbs because of a boy.”

He nodded, wearing a sort of knowing look, and you felt a little embarrassed. “Ah,” he said simply.

“And then, um, you know— he left. As they tend to.”

“Boys?”

“Everyone.”

He swallowed; you regretted saying it, sort of, but you were still talking— like you couldn’t stop yourself. Your hands were shaking— you were looking down at them in your lap, you knew they were— and you just felt like you couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.

“You know, this is the first time that I really…” you sighed and shook your head, looking for the words. “This is the most I’ve ever trusted somebody. I guess because I have to— but you—”

“S’alright,” he interrupted, “you don’t have to say all that.”

“You won’t even let me thank you?” you laughed, but your frustration was obvious; when you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with something that finally made your hands stop shaking. Flooded with a sudden wave of courage (and wanting to act on it before it inevitably subsided), you leaned forward and kissed him; you shut your eyes tight— you would’ve lost your nerve otherwise— and you held his cheek in one hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against his hair while your palm pressed against his somewhat unruly beard.

For one moment, it was perfect, but then he reached up and took your hand, guiding you away slowly. You pulled back, more dejected than ever, and he gave you a soft frown as he shook his head.

Falling back into your chair, you slumped dejectedly; you didn’t want to cry, it would just seem pathetic now, but your eyes were watering anyways. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“No— it’s alright,” he promised, “I’m not… offended, or something.”

“What am I to you?” you asked, point blank. “I mean— I know I’m not— fuck, I’m stupid. I know I’m not…”

Despite starting again, you couldn’t find the words the second time, either.

“I just mean… do you see me as, like, a charity case? A daughter figure or something?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said, “but I— you’re not my property. That’s not why I took you from that son of a bitch. You can leave whenever you want, you know.”

“But do you want me to stay?” you asked, feeling tears run down your cheeks suddenly even though you had specifically requested that they not do that.

Your real question was trapped in the middle of that sentence: do you want me?

He looked away again, and your hurt started to shift into anger— because that’s all anger really is, anyway: hurt, dressing up as something else. “You treat me like a child! Sometimes you won’t even look at me, like you’re embarrassed of me! I’m not your property but I’m not your equal, either— so what am I to you? Do you even see me as a woman at all?!”

That accusation seemed to get his attention, and he almost looked angry, too. “I am well aware that you’re a woman,” he said sternly.

“Is that why you were watching me at the pond?”

You’d never seen him with that deer in the headlights look— technically, you still didn’t, because he turned his head away quickly.

“That’s what you were doing, wasn’t it?” you pressed. “How long were you there before I heard you? Come on, Emmett— look at me. Or will you only do that when I’m naked?”

He snapped, standing up quickly and grabbing you by your— his— shirt to pull you with him. “Do you know what you’re fucking doing to me?” he growled at you.

“Same thing I did to you that night it got too cold?” you returned with a sneer, and he shoved you away with a shudder, turning to face the wall and crossing his arms.

There was a silence, though it wasn’t nearly as long as the ones you’d gotten used to with him, and he dropped his shoulders as he sighed. “I’ve done what I can for you,” he said quietly— and your stomach twisted in knots. He’s going to ask me to leave, you assumed instantly. “I’ve tried to… to leave you alone—”

“That’s what you think I want?” you realized, almost laughing it was so absurd. “Begging you not to leave, to stay where I can see you all night, trying to get you to talk to me— because I want to be alone?”

“After what happened to you— after how it must have been with him—” he started, turning around and looking at you sadly— “I’d wanna be fucking left alone. I’ll say that.”

“Well, I guess I’m just not strong enough for that,” you decided with an unhappy sort of smile. “I guess I still need someone. I need you. And clearly that’s just my fucking problem, so I’m sorry for making it yours.”

But he stepped closer to you, reaching out to hold your shoulders, and you met his gaze again. You shivered, just like you thought you would. “Say it again,” he requested flatly. It wasn’t very specific, but you knew exactly what he meant.

“I need you,” you said again, softer, and he shut his eyes with a sigh.

Your eyes shut, too, when he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours; you breathed together for a second, your hands moving up to his bare chest as you bit your lip.

“I need you,” you repeated, even quieter— a whisper now— and another tear striped your face. “Emmett, I need you—”

“Fuck,” he said softly, and you smiled. “Fuck, I need you, too.”

You smiled even wider then; he could probably hear your heartbeat, you would’ve sworn it was beating out of your chest. Opening your eyes when you felt him pull back, you waited patiently— like you had been since this all began.

“I just— I don’t want you thinking that you have to—” he started to explain.

“I don’t have to,” you nodded, “but I want to. Is that wrong?”

He didn’t answer, but he kissed you; he held your jaw gently, tilting your head back, and he kissed you in just the way you’d dreamed of.

It was simple enough at first, sweet and sort of slow— he pulled you closer, wrapping you in a hug while you held onto his shoulders— but then it got… heavier. Hungrier. Hotter.

You were gasping as you opened your mouth wider, all but begging him to dive deeper; and for his part, he kept grabbing your waist and hips, pulling you into him like he couldn’t get you close enough, and you thought your knees were going to buckle.

The two of you stumbled back, together, towards the sort-of bed that you sort-of shared; he laid you back on it, and you heard yourself whimper a little as you let him slot himself between your legs.

His weight was oddly comforting on top of you, pressing you back into the nest of blankets as you arched your back against him.

You both pulled back from the kiss as you looked down, needing to see somewhat what you were doing as you started to open his belt. He looked down too, watching you do it for a second, before laughing a bit and leaning in to kiss your neck. “Fuck,” you sighed, “come on, you’re gonna distract me—”

“What’s the hurry?” he purred, grabbing your hands and pinning them back instead— and that made you moan out loud. “We’ve got all the time we want, darlin’...”

“Fuck, but I—” you whined, though you struggled to pull a sentence together when he dragged his tongue over your pulse like that. “God, I just— please—”

“Shh,” he soothed, “m’gonna take care of you. Gonna take care of you, sweet girl, I promise…”

And he’d taken care of you every way he knew how before, so you trusted him. Still, you weren’t exceptionally patient.

You gasped when you felt him press his hips to yours through all these goddamn clothes; he was hard, really fucking hard, and it made your head spin. How were you supposed to wait for him to be all slow and romantic and stuff when you felt that? “Pretty girl,” he cooed at you quietly, “look at me for a second.”

You looked up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and he smiled back at you as he pet your forehead for a moment.

“There you are,” he breathed, and your heart swelled.

He undressed you carefully, like you were the one with an injury, and you bit your lip to fight the urge to beg him to hurry the fuck up. He kissed all over your neck and chest, even as far down as your belly while he was pulling your panties down your thighs— and of course he looked up at you as he did it, like he knew it would absolutely wreck you. “God, Emmett, please,” you whined, sighing with relief when he sat up and finished opening his belt. He kept looking at you while he did it, something darker and heavier in his stare as he pushed his jeans down; you couldn’t help but look down at it, and you breathed in sharply as you bit your lip.

Of course it was fucking big— you’d figured it was from what you felt before— with a thick, leaking head and a curve that you could just tell was going to fit perfectly inside you. Your hips rocked a little into nothing at the sight, and you moaned when he kissed you again— more desperate than ever, both of you.

You whined loudly, much louder than you meant to, when he pushed inside you all at once. It wasn’t too fast or too rough or anything— but it was plenty to be filled by in one go, and your nails dug into his back.

“Fuck,” he grunted, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. “So fuckin’ wet.”

You whimpered, feeling your walls tighten up hearing him say that. It was no wonder, with the way he’d been toying with you— and not just tonight. “Oh my god,” you gasped out, instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips like you didn’t want him to move at all. Obviously, though, you couldn’t stop him from pulling back and thrusting in again, nor did you want to; your back arched, hard, and your moan echoed around the room. “F-fuck,” you choked, “it’s so— you’re so— god.”

“Shh,” he soothed, in a sweet way, and his hands found your hips to pull them up higher to his; he moved you just how he wanted, you were putty in his fingers, and he groaned as he thrusted into you at the new angle.

It was deep. It was really, really fucking deep; and you thought you were at your limit, but you still somehow wanted more. Toes curling, you let your back arch between your hips held to his and your shoulders laying back on the blankets— your arms went limp and yet your fingers were searching for something to hold onto as he moved a bit faster.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he groaned, a spare hand leaving your hips and groping roughly at one of your tits. You just gasped and pushed your chest up into his touch, pulsing inside when he pinched a hard nipple. “Feels good?”

“Yes!” you shouted. “Yes, fuck yes— don’t stop, please, please—”

Panting, he snarled a little, but he sure as hell didn’t stop. He was right about you being wet, you could even hear it when he thrusted faster; and that just turned you on even more, the whole thing was a vicious cycle really.

For the most part, you kept your eyes shut because it was just what felt natural— but when you did open your eyes, you caught glimpses of him staring down at you, his eyes moving from your face to your bouncing tits to where he was inside you, where his hands held onto your hips and pet them soothingly in contrast to his rough thrusts.

Then, he watched his hand move to the middle, just above where his cock filled you, and his thumb started to rub your clit.

You had no excuse for being so sensitive, but you cried out and tried to grab his wrist from how intense it was. “Emmett!” you nearly screamed. “O-oh god, oh god—”

“Jus’ wanna feel you come, sweetheart,” he explained, his voice darker than usual. “Can you come for me?”

“Y-yeah,” you agreed with a nod, already feeling delirious from all this. “Yeah, fuck, I can come— you’re gonna make me come, fuck…”

You went from yelling to whispering by the end of your sentence, though you weren’t sure why, and he kept a steady pace with his hips and his hand until your whole body started to shake.

“I— I’m close,” you choked out.

“I know,” he said. Smug little shit— too bad you were too busy coming to complain about that attitude.

Shuddering all over, you opened your eyes and looked at him one more time— he was looking right back at you, jaw tight and nostrils flaring, so that only made it worse— before you arched back harder than you thought possible and gave into it. Your hands kept searching for something to hold, like you might actually fall somehow if you didn’t get an iron-tight grip on his thigh or arm or something. You found his bent knee but his hands found yours a second later— and he interlaced his fingers with yours, laying on top of you again and pressing deep into you even while you were still in the middle of your ecstasy.

You weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore, you could tell your mouth was moving and that was about it. It probably wasn’t even words; but this pleasure, you were totally submerged in it. He kept kissing you and praising you, fucking you deeper into the feeling and into the thoroughly-disturbed blankets under you. “Good girl,” he whispered against your neck, “good fucking girl— god, I can feel it— so good for me—”

When a hint of your awareness of reality returned, your mind and body coming down from the high and settling into something a little easier and familiar, your arms reached up and held him close. "Fuck, Emmett," you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as you were flooded with an emotion you couldn't name. "Emmett, I love you. I'm in love with you."

He breathed heavy and held you tighter, burying his face in your neck as you started to really cry.

"I love you," you said again, grabbing at him harder as he began to kiss your neck— your jaw, your cheek— and his hand wiped your tears away.

"Shh, I know," he promised quietly. "It's okay, beautiful, I know."

He wasn't ready to say it yet— but you felt it. You could feel it just in the way he held you.

He pulled back enough that you could see his face, propping himself up above you. Sweat made his hair cling to his forehead, and you smiled at the sight— he looked damn good like this, finally giving in. You hadn’t realized he was going easy on you, until he pushed in a little harder and a little deeper.

You whined, reaching up to grab onto his arm, and he hissed when you accidentally grabbed onto the gauze-wrapped wound. “Fuck, sorry, sorry,” you breathed, moving your hand down, and he laughed a little.

“S’okay,” he assured, leaning down and kissing your cheek sweetly. “It’s okay, sweetheart…”

You eventually ended up holding onto the back of his neck, running your fingers with his hair even if it was damp from sweat— you were sweating, too, and you’d never thought it could be this sensual to get this way. All this heat and movement in such a small space, all these blankets and insulation, somehow it made you both even needier. You didn’t care if it was putting that pond bath to waste, you just wanted more: you made it clear, with the way you needily hugged him closer.

You didn’t even realize you were about to come again until he pointed it out. “Fuck, another one for me?” he realized with a proud groan. “Gonna give me another one, sweet girl? Fuck, that’s it— so good for me—”

It was so sudden, not like the last one that built up and spilled over slowly— this one was hard and fast and left you completely spent and almost too fucked out to notice how much faster he was moving. But it was impossible not to notice him picking up the pace, getting a little louder himself, grabbing your hands again and squeezing them tightly.

The way he moaned in your ear was just too perfect; you whimpered and tightened your legs around him, gasping each time he reached the deepest parts of you.

"Baby," he grunted, "say you’re mine.”

“Yours, Emmett,” you promised with a whimper. "I'm yours, I fucking swear— all yours."

You'd never had a chance to know how good it could be to belong to someone— it didn't have to be bad, it didn't have to be like it was before.

He didn’t slow down until every drop was inside you; he gasped in heavy breaths, he held on tightly to your waist, but he didn’t stop until you were completely filled and he was exhausted in every way.

You both took a long time to catch your breath, and in the meantime, he kissed you again. You figured you weren’t a very good kisser in this state, you were completely numb in the mind and body (in the most amazing way) and you could barely find the energy to even lift your hands— but he didn’t seem to mind, because he kissed you for a long, long time.

Eventually, you were both (mostly) in reality again, and he pulled up to hover above you. You touched his arm softly, and he looked at your hand before looking at your face again.

“Sorry,” he blurted out suddenly as he looked down at where your bodies were joined, like he was just realizing what he’d done. “I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t have finished inside, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, “I would’ve been kind of pissed if you pulled out.”

“But we should— I mean, we need to be careful,” he panted. “Next time we have to—”

“Next time,” you breathed happily, pulling him down into another kiss— less tired, more… smiley. You’d probably seen him smile more in the last ten minutes than the rest of your time together combined.

“What, you thought that was a one-night stand?” he laughed, biting your lip playfully before he broke away from the kiss. “Or do you just wanna fuck around and pretend not to want each other like a couple of morons before we do it again?”

“I mean, maybe that’s why this time was so great,” you shrugged, “all the anticipation.”

“Nah,” he breathed, leaning in and kissing your neck again— tender and patient, making you sigh and shut your eyes. “It’s so great ‘cause it’s how this is supposed to be. ‘Cause we need each other.”

You shivered, just as much from his words as his delicate kisses along your pulse, and you almost melted right back into those blankets again— but instead, you startled him by sitting up quickly. “Alright, I think I’m ready for that next time now,” you purred, rolling him onto his back and straddling him with a mischievous grin.

“Jesus, woman,” he groaned, hands settling on your waist, “you’re gonna kill me, I think.”

“Well, I missed the first time,” you giggled as you touched the edge of his bandage. “And we have some time to make up for. God, I wanted you so bad, Emmett.”

He sighed, his chest sinking, and he let his head fall back as he gave in. “This is how I always hoped I’d go out anyways,” he decided.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #a quiet place emmett x reader #emmett quiet place smut #sorry he has no last name yall lmao #emmett quiet place x reader

2K notes · View notes

missterious-figure · 3 months

Text

Part 1

(Just a little scenario I thought up. This takes place a little after y/n first gets Sun and Moon)

"Ring-a-ring!"

You groaned as you heard your phone vibrate with each blaring sound. What in your right mind were you thinking when you made this your ringtone? You opened one eye, looking to the window to gage the time. There was no light streaming through the curtains, so you could tell it was still dark outside. Lazily sitting up, you slapped at the dresser next to your bed a few times, catching nothing but an empty palm, before your hand landed on your phone. Just as you did, the ringing fell silent.

Giving a sleepy yawn, you used your thumb to tap the screen, and it turned on. You weren't prepared for the sudden flash of light in your eyes and, with a startled growl, you almost dropped your phone onto your lap. Squinting through the glaring light, you swipped down the brightness level. Good, now you could actually see. You pressed the missed calls icon on your phone. Who was calling so early in the morning? You froze at the number. Your dad.

You immediately put your phone back on the dresser and tucked yourself back into bed. You didn't have the energy to deal with him right now. He and your mom had always been so controlling, and were probably only calling to try to guilt trip you into abandoning your fish store and coming home to work at the family business. This business was a restaurant, and a shabby one at that. And they would probably try to pawn you off as a spouse to one of their friends' kids as well. You hated that they had literally already been thinking of ideas for your wedding when you were like, what, ten?

Anyway, enough about that. You didn't want to think about them anymore. Just knowing they were trying to contact you again made you tired. You conked out only a few minutes later, eager to let sleep take you back.

***

Later that morning, after you had gotten ready and eaten, you went down stairs to the floor bellow your home. Your fish shop. A while back, you had bought a cheap two story building that had been for sale on a small shopping district in town. Sure, there wasn't much space inside either floor, but you could make it work. You lived om the top floor and set up your store on the bottom one.

Rows of small to medium sized fish tanks lined the walls. There was a long island in the middle of the floor, and it also had its own row of tanks. A few bar lights hung from the ceiling, ready to be turned on. Your shop brightened up and you grabbed a few different shakers of fish food from behind the checkout counter near the front of the store. This was almost your favorite part of the day. Feeding the fish. You made sure to give the right type of food to the right type of fish. You just loved to see how excited they would get as you walked to each tank.

Soon your little task was done. It was almost time to open. You needed to do one last thing: check on the "fish" outside. You walked to the back of the store and out a door to your backyard. Three large ponds resided at the right side of your yard, a shed and a few potted plants taking up the left side. A tall wooden fence bordered it all the way around. Large bushes poked up from outside the fence.

A loud splash caught your attention. From the pond closest to you, two familiar eyes peeked out. You ran to the ponds edge and kneeled down. The eyes had disappeared. You peered into the water, excitedly calling out,

"Come on, Sunny! I know you're in there!"

As you finished your sentence, a large creature popped out of the water. It's yellow top half resembled a human with a circular face, pointed teeth and sharp claws. Instead of hair, it had seven white rays adorning it's face and orange, veil-like fins that flopped all the way to it's back. It also flopped over it's face. Even stranger, it had a white and blue fish tail starting from it's hips down.

"Sunny! There you are, boy!"

You giggled as the creature chattered, confused, as he looked in vain to find you. Reaching a hand out, you gently swept his fins up and out of his face. He squeaked excitedly, now that he finally could see you. He pulls his chest out of the water and onto the edge of the pond next to you, folding his arms underneath him as support. Moving into a sitting position, you cup his round face in you hands. In a friendly response, he purrs and leans into you soft touch.

"Hey, Sunny! Couldn't wait to see ya! You like getting pets, right buddy?"

He nudges your hands with his cheeks, as if asking for cheek rubs. Which, of course, you generously give. This is your favorite part of the day. Even though you haven't known him long, it feels like he is your very best friend. He seems to understand you, and even tries to comfort you when he notices you look sad. He warbles and gurgles at you, and you like to believe, personally, he's trying to really talk to you. He has even sung to you a handful of times. He always tries to do things specifically to make you smile and you know it. Nobody has ever been this kind to you. Not like Sun.

Sun suddenly jerked away from your hands, interrupting your thoughts. You pulled them back towards your chest, startled by Sun's odd behavior. He's looking towards the fence, a low growling emitting from his throat. You hope maybe he just heard a raccoon or stray cat. You nervously ask, as if you would get an answer,

"What is it, Sunny?"

Of course, there's no response as he keeps growling, eyes lazer-focused on the direction of whatever he heard.

Link to part 2 below!

#dca au #fish store au #dca mer au #mer sun #guppy sun #digital art #store owner y/n #missterious drabble

207 notes · View notes

iliketangerines · 3 months

Note

Kotal Kahn with a reader who’s just a simple marketer in the outworld markets- like maybe she sells fruits or clothes-

the simple peasant

a/n: i hate kotal kahn, but yes, i do need him

pairing: kotal kahn x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

he walks through the markets, browsing the wares, but he’s searching for something

for you

he remembers how Jade had visited him in the flesh pits, talking about you, how you were kind and gentle and soft and always so kind to others

she was so smitten with you, and she had wished that he could meet you and come out of the flesh pits to talk to you and fall in love as she did

almost every day she had gone to see you, and then she died in Sindel’s attack and Kotal was freed to work alongside Mileena

and now, finally free from paperwork and training and practice, he strolls through the markets and looks for you

Jade always described you so fondly, saying that you were unmistakable, rough hands from washing and picking fruit every day

and yet they were so gentle with them, like they were precious rubies and gems, and that you always handled them with care

your voice firm but gentle as you haggled prices with Jade every day and the other customers, but you always gave the local kids a free piece of fruit

Kotal looks for you in markets and pauses when he hears someone yelling and screaming about something

drawing his weapon, Kotal finds someone hitting a customer with a hat, kicking them in the shins as they buckle over in pain

the warrior rushes over and pulls someone off the person, and they struggle in his arms as they kick and scream at the person

he tells them to calm down before he makes them, and finally, they calm down before saying that the person laying on the floor had tried to steal your wares and then threaten a kid to try and get something for free

Kotal looks at the person laying on the floor, and then back at the person in their arms and sets them down, picking up the beaten robber by the scruff

they sniffle and ask to be taken away, they don’t want to deal with the crazy marketplace seller

Kotal sighs and sets them down and holds onto their shoulder, and he asks for the seller’s name

they repeat your name, and something clicks in his brain as he watches you brush dust off yourself and grumble and scowl

patting him on the arm roughly, you say your thanks and go back to your stand, checking on the produce and making sure that everything was okay

he walks over to you, towering over your figure, and you turn to him and ask if he wants to buy something and if not, that he should scram

Kotal purses his lips and wonders how Jade could ever like you, but he asks if you know of a Jade and that she had gone to your stand often

almost immediately, your eyes brighten up, and you ask if he knows her and that you hadn’t seen her in forever

the warrior sighs, clenching his fist, before he tells in you in a low voice that she had passed away fighting a great evil

your shoulders stiffen, and your smile drops as you let out a quiet oh

there is only silence as Kotal bows and takes his leave, and he takes a glance back at you to see you wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand

he takes the robber to the prisons, and he spends the rest of the day thinking about you

you were not gentle or soft, more like rough and prickly all over with too much anger for that one body, and yet, he wanted to go back

unfortunately for him, you were the last memory he had of Jade, and he was desperate to cling onto it for as long as he could

the next day, he finds you, purse heavy with coin, and he finds you haggling prices with a customer and counting the money before handing them the fruit

he walks up to the front, looking at the fruits, picking one up in his hands and peering at it for any blemishes

you recognize him, head tilting to the side and shoulders tensing up, but you treat him just as any customer and tell him the prices and give your sale

he buys some and then waits for you to finish with the others, waiting for a lull in time to talk to you about Jade

finally, the dust settles, and it’s only you standing with your cart and he walks over to you with the freshly peeled fruit and hands one over to you

smiling at him, you push it away and say that it’s his, that he bought it, and you go back to washing the fruit in the barrel behind you for selling

he stands there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say, and so he sits next to you and washes as you wash the fruit

you’re careful, inspecting them all with a knowing eye, and you throw out the ones that even have the slightest blemishes

Kotal just watches, but you don’t even seem to mind as he watches, as though you are familiar with someone watching as you washed the fruit

and then, suddenly you speak up and say to Kotal that you know he wants to talk about Jade and that it isn’t healthy to hold onto her like that

he furrows his brows in surprise and then he says what, unsure of what you mean

you say that it seems Jade has been gone for quite a while and you had accepted that she was gone a long time ago, only holding on to a thread of hope that she was alive

but you have made your peace, and he should too, make some new memories, never forget Jade but keep her in your heart and move on

Kotal tenses in his seat, but he knows there are truth to your words and they sit heavy in his gut and stab at him

you sigh and stop your washing for a second, wiping your hands dry on your robe and take one of his large hands into his own

it’s a comical sight, his hand engulfing yours as you comfort him

but it doesn’t deter you as you sit right next to him and tell him that you’re here for him, losing someone you love is always hard but the heart will heal if you let it

Kotal listens and sits and finally grieves, you by his side

#tangerine writes #tangerine answers #mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 11 #mk11 #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #kotal kahn #kotal kahn mk11 #mk11 kotal kahn #kotal kahn x reader #kotal kahn x you #kotal kahn x y/n

56 notes · View notes

greywritesthings · 6 months

Text

Cherry trees and lavender

Spencer reid x poet!f!reader

Fluff

Warnings : tooth rotting fluff

A/N : slightly delirious with lack of sleep writing this, may rewrite the end but heres it for now, reblogs likes and follows appreciated massively, i have freaking discover turned off for ages

Masterlist

spencer reid Masterlist

Read on AO3

“Honey! Jordan Bell has a new poetry book coming out!” Spencer yells as soon as he walks in the door, expecting you to be curled up in your shared bedroom given it was a Friday afternoon and you had normally long since finished work for the day. He was surprised to find you laid out on the couch laptop resting precariously on the edge of the sofa, your tablet now resting face down on the floor, already having fallen victim to your slumber. He walked across to you, going to right the laptop and tablet, fully intending to turn them off once they were on the coffee table when an email caught his eye. Book signing meeting: Cherry trees and lavender

What

Why would you be getting emails about meetings for the book his favourite modern poet had just released. He looked at your tablet and saw two more surprising tabs: Release day sales reports and one off specialty collection edition delivery conformation.“What on earth.” he muttered to himself, nearly going to snoop more but he felt bad already just for looking at the open tabs on your computer, so he decided to just wake you up. “Darling? Wake up sweet girl” he moves the hair from your face smiling down at you as you slowly blink your eyes open as they go from confused to recognition. “Hi baby, tired from work?” he asks, laughing slightly as you just pull him down onto you. “Sweetheart, you left your laptop open from when you were working and i didnt mean to snoop but i saw some stuff about cherry trees and” he gets cut off as you basically push him off of you to sit up and turn towards your laptop. “What emails did you see, exactly spence? I don't mind you knowing, there's just a surprise I don't want ruined.”

“I don't know, what do you mean? Why are you getting emails about cherry trees and lavender? Let alone sales reports or book signing meetings?” He is painfully confused as you turn around to look at him like he's missed something painfully obvious. “Darling, why do you think I would get those emails? Given I'm not an accountant nor a secretary, I'm sure your genius brain can figure it out pretty boy.” you say as you stand up heading over to the kitchen, you hadn’t explicitly ever told him, but hadn't really kept it a secret, but once you realised he hadn't yet guessed you were Jordan Bell you figured you would tell him with a one off collection of your books, with customised covers all with something that reminded you of him and the latest one, cherry trees and lavender had a dedication page just for him. It had come today so with the kettle boiling you walked off to the bedroom to grab the stack of books waiting on the bed.

“Sweet girl, your Jordan Bell? The poetry author?” he asks, still sounding utterly bewildered at the thought as you walk back into the room. You place the books down on the coffee table, “Read this, look at these, then if you don't get it i might just have to start questioning that genius title of yours my darling.” you say opening to the dedication page you wrote to him personally and laying out the covers of the books one by one.

He doesn't move for ten minutes, seemingly frozen on the dedication page, you made sure not to mention him by name but described him well enough that you would hope and pray he gets it. “You okay there darling?” you ask cautiously. Unsure what's going through his head. He shakes himself free of the trance he was in. “Im, your, sorry yes i'm fine darling just, shocked. How did you hide this from me? Also, you're my favourite twenty-first century author just by the way.” he grinned at you. “Well, i didn't care if you found out before this really, but when i realised you didn't know i was part way through writing cherry trees and you ended up being a large inspiration for the lavender part.” you say with a smile, taking the book out of his hands and placing it down carefully. “So, I ordered a special edition collection from the publisher with customer hardcovers that have little things that remind me of you or us, and added some bonus ones to each, so they're all a tad longer than the original. I know you wanted the anniversary collection when it came out but I thought a one of a kind edition was better.” At this point you slotted yourself in his arms, chin resting on his chest looking at him as he looked down at you, smiling as wide as a kid in a candy shop. “I love them darling, they're the best, I just can't believe I never caught onto this.” he says reaching over to grab his new book as you shuffle further down him grabbing your own e-reader as you spend the rest of the evening basking in each other, with spencer commenting on the poems as he goes, smiling at everyone that points towards a memory you shared together.

#criminal minds x reader #greyswritings #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

71 notes · View notes

iamyoursonly · 9 months

Text

My safe haven (25/12/2023)

merry christmas guyssss! i’m here to serve you a meal so enjoyyyy

Wearing my headphones, I sit down at a seat on the train back home. My heart and soul can’t wait till the moment of relaxation home comes. I was so excited to finally go home after a whole week of overtime. I really am tired, physically and somewhat mentally too.

The ride was a bit bumpy, about an hour long I’d say. I enjoyed the quiet time alone… Music playing in my ears as I read the book I have kept in my bag for a few months already. One page and another, I scanned through the lines of words, reading every single one of them.

Enjoyable times flies by, am I right? The train reaches its final stop — my stop — as I reluctantly get off. Holding the book in my hands, I jog out of the subway and head to the bus station.

The Christmas decorations in the subway were bright, children were carolling in the station and shops had sales for this festive holiday. I couldn’t help but stop and admire the decorations at the bakery in awe. I take out the scarf from my bag and wrap it around my neck, scared that I might get a cold from the weird weather right now.

My phone buzzed when first I stepped out of the subway, the cold wind blowing in my face. I breathed out a big breath, seeing my own breath in the air. Then I take out my phone, hands freezing.

S: Are you home yet?

You: Almost there

The time was about eleven at night when I finally reached home — my little haven of peace. I love how comforting the environment always is and how well it reflects my personality, the quietness of it and the calmness it brings me. I take off my shoes, and turn on the lights for the living room. A tall and lean figure was seen spreading all over the couch after the lights were turned on.

“Satoru? What are you doing here? On the couch really? You’re going to break your fucking back, dude.”

He stands up, looking a bit offended by my comment. “Hey! First up, I have the right to be here. You gave me the key, alright? Secondly, where if not the couch. Your bed? Lastly, I am not going to break my fucking back, dude. I’m just twenty eight.”

I mutter a little curse under my breath, “You little shit. At least take care of your mess! Do you think I won’t catch the chip crumbs on the couch?”

He quickly tried to swipe the crumbs onto the floor to ‘remove the evidence’ of his ‘crime’. It’s actually really funny I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

I noticed that Satoru let out a visible blush when I started laughing, it was adorable to be honest. But then he started laughing along with me.

“Would you like a coffee?” Satoru asks, “I want to apologise about the mess.”

I stop my laughing and hit his head lightly, “You dumbass it’s 11 right now, do you want me awake for the whole night?” I mutter.

He says sorry quickly though, and promised to get me coffee at a more appropriate time. Then he proposed to play nintendo games together. I kept losing to him but it doesn’t matter.

We have always had so much fun together, since forever ago, because the ‘home is my safe haven’ thing is a lie. The truth is, Satoru is my safe haven. He doesn’t know it though.

A few years ago, his mother met up with me personally after she heard from an ‘unknown source’ that I have a thing for his son. It’s not like I was in any position to deny this fact, ai just didn’t want to accept it yet. But I was definite that the person that told her was my ex that had always been angry at me for always hanging out with Satoru.

“Here take the money and stop everything you’re doing with Satoru.” That’s all I remember her saying but all I did was keep my stance and say no. Then I burst out of the room crying, and ended up in Satoru’s arms again. Telling him all about it.

He went to talk to his mother the next day and he was grounded for a week. That week I felt alone and empty and sad without him. And started to over think that I was the bad influence for him. So I asked my mother if I could transfer schools, at least somewhere away from Satoru. Because as long as Satoru is happy, I am.

I remember seeing a girl on Satoru’s instagram stories, apparently she was his girlfriend and it was just to ‘take his mind off all this drama’. Not that I’m blaming him though. I could only make myself believe that: I’m the coward that ran away and I don’t deserve him.

When I thought the ‘feelings’ were finally over after five years of ‘No Satoru’, I returned and took up a nine-to-five job as a secretary for the company Satoru’s family owned.

It was just to test out if I still had the butterflies in my stomach when I glance at Satoru’s pretty face. Well they’re still there, all that distance and time away didn’t really work.

“Hey! Satoru! The crumbs are on the floor now, oh my god! Why do you keep doing this to me every time you come to my house! Do you really want me to get into trouble with your mother again?”

He let out a slight chuckle, “It’s fine, because I’ll be there with you this time.”

I breathe out, “What?!”

He continued, “Have I ever told you why I came back to you after you left for so long?”

“To be honest with you, Satoru. I don’t really want or need to know, because you’re here now and that’s what it matters. But go ahead and talk.”

He smiled and nodded, “You know when you left, I was practically a living corpse. At least my mom said I was. I didn’t want to believe that you were gone. I thought that you were strong enough to trust me to handle this… But you were gone. And when I realized it was a little too late. I gaslighted myself that you were just going on a small vacation and you’ll be back soon. But the next time I saw you was at your job interview. And you were working for my top employee, you didn’t know how happy I was, I may have cried tears of joy in the bathroom.”

I hug him, “Sorry for leaving. And thank you for telling me all this”

He hugs me back, “Yeah. Can I tell you something?”

I nod, “Go ahead, Satoru.”

“I like you.”

Well that was the thing that I least expected he’d say. ‘I like you’? Really? Was I happy? Or was I not. But I just wanted to fling my arms over his shoulders and give him a big hug and an even bigger thank you.

But we’d be good at dating, since we’ve known each other for so long, we already fought and figured it out. We have known each other’s likes or dislikes, and he could take me out on dates filled with joy and fun. Maybe we could try it out, even if it ruins the friendship. It’s worth it if it’s ruined for you.

So I hug the taller male, smiling on my face and also deep down, “Thank you. Thank you for liking me.”

I didn’t know what to say, it was a bit shocking. Maybe it all just happened too fast, or was it because I couldn’t process too much and was just hallucinating. I pinched my cheek hard and I was everything BUT hallucinating.

“Is this real?” I asked Satoru.

He looked at me with a smile and smiled, “Unfortunately, yeah.”

I hit his chest because of his childishness, “I can’t with you.”

“But you like me too don’t you?” He shrug.

“What did you say??!” I start yelling at him, grabbing the TV controller that was on the couch. “Come here, boss. Let me hit some sense into you!”

He run away frantically, as a joke of course, he knew I was joking, that’s how well we know each other. Then I catch him, I grabbed ahold of his waist from behind, “Caught you.”

He hold his hands up like he had just been arrested, “Oh no! I have been caught.” He said with a tone of sarcasm. He turned around and held me up, I was shocked of course, I yelped when he first did. Then his face was close to mine, so close I could feel his breath on my face.

“I really like you, I’m not joking.”

Feeling brave, I grab his face. “Guess what, I like you too.”

Then I kiss him, and it was ethereal, as if all the butterflies in my stomach had exploded. And it was just like the world has left the two of us behind. Just him and I.

“Really?” He breathed out, “You mean it?”

I continue holding his face, looking him in the eye, “What do you think? Does it feel unreal?”

Satoru chuckled, and held my face too, “It does.” My face grows red from it, I don’t know if it was because of the cold or because of him anymore, but either ways I’m grateful enough to have him here already.

“Also, sweetie. You’ve made my year even more special,” He says, and I look at him. The clock chimes, signalling that it’s now 12am, “Now I can finally change my way of saying ‘Merry Christmas’ to you. I’m going to say ‘Merry Christmas, darling’ from now on.” I could just smile at this sweet gesture, “Then what should I say? ‘Merry Christmas, ‘toru’?”

“I’d like that.” Satoru says, then he leans down and kisses me again.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

“Merry Christmas, ‘Toru.”

This Christmas, and the next and the next next, until forever. I wish to be in his embrace, his warmth and pray that our love will be eternal.

BONUS:

“Look here, princess.” He says, making my eyes look at him on command, “Yes, dear?” I mimic his tone as I look at his gorgeous eyes. He laughed when I did.

“What??” I asked, pouting, “So it’s only funny when you do it?”

He jokingly commented, “Of course it is, no one has my sense of humor.” I playfully hit him and he dramatically pretended if I had hit him in the gut hard. “Oh my god that hurt so bad!”

He really has a nice sense of humor.

masterlist

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk #drabble #gojo and you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #christmas #hehe #live laugh love

57 notes · View notes

cuntgender · 3 months

Text

Going out to a bar with someone who knows your drunk levels and exactly how to take advantage of them

Feeding you shots and touching your arm, back, side, rubbing the side of your ass, “accidentally” grazing your tits… just enough to get you worked up for the next stage

Which is your outgoing and flirty stage, at which point he tells you to go flirt with as many people as you can, get them to ply you with drinks, dance with them and make them promise to rape you later. You trust your dom and think this is all in good fun at this point, but you don’t truly understand what’s going to come later

As you drink more and more, you get to your messy/blackout stage, and your dom can get you to do more and more extreme things. He gets you to grind your crotch on his knee while he fucks your face with his fingers, your eyes glazed over and too wasted to know anything but how good it feels.

You find your shirt more and more unbuttoned, your skirt pulled higher and higher, until your tits are out and strangers are coming up to grope you. One even shoves his fingers up inside you, and all you can do is giggle and try to push them out of the way

Eventually you lose steam, though, you’re so sleepy and just want to go home. But your dom makes you drink more and more. This is just what he was waiting for. You ask over and over again to go home, but your dom ignores you, tells you you’re a stupid slut and to shut up. He undresses you and dumps you on a sticky table.

The people who promised to rape you earlier are circling your barely conscious body, touching you. The man who tried to finger you earlier smacks your cunt and shoves his fingers in. People who were so nice before are dumping beer on your face and body, smacking your tits.

You doze for a second and come back, bleary and trying to figure out what’s going on. There’s something glass shoved into your asshole, with someone between your legs, fucking into your unprotected cunt. Someone else is fucking your face. Everything smells like beer and cum. You try to get them to stop, but you can barely form words and keep drooling all over yourself. Over and over again, they fuck you, after a while your cunt is so used you can barely feel anything. You’re not aware of anything, not even to worry about how much stranger cum was stuffed inside your fertile cunt

Eventually, when they’re done using your body like a cumrag, only the bartender remains. Your dom is gone. Your rapists stole your clothes, wallet, and phone. You have nothing. The bartender looks at you with pity when you try to ask for help and fall onto the disgusting floor instead. You pass out right there and come to in flashes - being helped down some stairs, shackles closed around your wrists and ankles, a bottle being pulled out of your ass and piss dripping out. He shoves a plug in every hole and tells you to behave or he’ll shock you. You’re still too wasted to do anything.

He says your dom didn’t want you anymore so he sold you to the bartender to improve sales and give him a new toy to play with. As the lights go out, the last thing you remember before oblivion is that he hopes you don’t turn out like the last one.

#nsft #mine #cnc fr33use #intox #gangr3pe

20 notes · View notes

untaemedqueen · 2 years

Text

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Series Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor, Unexpected Pregnancy, Almost Instalove, Instalust

Warnings For This Chapter: Morbidity, Dark Humor

Chapter 2.

The start of your morning always begins with a shot of espresso on your back patio and a look through of the past week's sales.

This morning, unfortunately for you, you can't possibly start off your day as usual. Not when Namjoon is standing on your doorstep at the crack of fucking dawn.

Even with his hands held up high with a brown paper bag full of freshly baked blueberry muffins from Angostinos and the other carefully carrying smoothies, he still has a gigantic smile plastered onto his face.

"Good morning!" Namjoon beams, brushing right past you into your sterile mansion.

"What's so good about it?" you grumble, placing your hand over your eyes like a vampire witnessing the sun for the first time in their life.

You slowly shut the door, notes of Joon's high pitched whistling floating through one ear and out the other with constant consistency.

It is in fact very odd that the tall, handsome man is in your home at the moment. Namjoon has always respected your private life and he never intrudes, never.

So on a Friday morning, with breakfast in hand is quite frankly bizarre.

"Why are you here?" you inquire, stepping into the open kitchen and leaning against the grand black marble pillar while your co-worker arranges breakfast on a plate.

"I can't bring you breakfast?" he chirps, sliding his sunglasses up and over his head until his hair is perfectly placed beneath them.

He's probably here to be nosy.

"No. It's illegal. Why are you here?" you ask again.

He stops arranging the muffins to look up at you slowly. He can hear the morning scratchiness of your throat with each word and he can certainly feel your demonic gaze piercing through his three piece suit.

Even now as you lean against the pillar, your black silk robe that trails along the cold, stone flooring is billowing around you like you're a goddess of deadly destruction.

Swallowing thickly, Namjoon averts his gaze when his eyes begin to trail over the one exposed leg that peeks out from beneath your robe.

"I came over to see how the escort thing went."

Bingo.

Call a horse a horse and it'll gallop all the way to the finish line for you.

"It went fine," you reply, walking over to one of the hard, stylistic black barstools and tentatively sitting.

There's no person on Earth that could sit down on this thing for more than ten seconds without getting a bruised coccyx and maybe a genital ache.

"So you picked a guy then?"

God's favorite pet project is acting just a bit too needy for you so early in the morning. Whenever he acts like this at work you can always just have a glass of wine and breathe, but without your espresso -- it's a buzzkill.

"Yes. His name is Jeongguk."

Joon can tell you're being curt and snippy now but when are you not?

So like always, he pushes past it.

"Got a picture? I'm curious to see what your type is. Does he look like me? Is he my long lost twin?"

You can only roll your eyes as you demurely point at the binder you took home at the far end of the bar.

Joon suddenly perks up at the thought of seeing multiple candidates and he's off in a split second.

"Make me an espresso while you be nosy."

"It's not my house," he murmurs, looking around.

"Figure it out, you woke me up," you breathe, looking down at your perfect nails.

"He looks like a fuckboy," Joon muses, sipping his smoothie.

Looking up from your espresso, you simply shrug. "He was very polite when I met him."

Fucking hot too.

"So he's willing to go with you to this wedding? You told him everything about it?" he inquires, brushing some of the muffin crumbs off the table into his hand and sprinkling them back onto his plate.

"He's coming over tonight to talk about some sort of game plan so I'd say so," you reply.

Namjoon's eyebrows furrow and his features give away almost immediately how much he hates that idea. "What? That's dangerous! You don't even know this dude and he's coming over to your house!?"

"You worry too much," you offer, patting him on the shoulder.

In all reality, you hadn't really thought about that. You were too entranced by how fucking hot Jeongguk was in that small office during the interview.

You acted like a child, really. It was like you've never seen an attractive human before and honestly… it really showed.

"Do you want me to come over after work and make sure he won't do anything?" Joon offers.

"No," you reply quickly, shaking your head.

He isn't your father. He doesn't need to just show up and you certainly won't embarrass Jeon Jeongguk like that.

"This is professional. And it will remain as such," you promise, sipping your espresso.

Unfortunately.

With a groan, Guk sets down the bar of weights above him.

"Nice, you're getting fucking strong, dude. You can lift more than you weigh." Jimin, his best friend chirps, tossing him a towel.

The escort catches it easily, patting his face gently as he sits up on the bench. "Yeah, I've been getting into working out more and more lately."

"Ever since Chloe?" Taehyung inquires, shaking his protein drink.

Just the sound of her name makes the youngest nauseous. "Chill out."

Jimin holds his hands up innocently before grabbing his gym bag with a sigh. "Got any jobs lately? Women don't want random dick anymore, man. They all want relationships and love and… commitment."

Tae snorts softly as he swallows the thick protein shake.

"I have a client I'm meeting in a few hours. I'm going to a wedding with her." Jeongguk announces, fixing his tank top in the mirror and flexing his biceps.

If his best friends were dogs, their ears would be perking up and their heads would be tilting at his admission.

"Oh really?!" Jimin drolls, draping himself over the bench press and looking at the youngest through the mirror.

"Yeah. She seems really nice," Guk shrugs, grabbing his dress shirt from the hook beside him.

"Is she hot?" Tae inquires with a sly smile, resting his elbow atop Jeongguk's shoulder.

The escort doesn't know how to reply. Most of the time when he hangs out with his best friends he himself is never under their gaze and questions are never barreled at him, he somehow always avoids it by switching the subject back to them.

But now, he has to answer.

When he first saw you in the meeting room guzzling your champagne with awkward, quick moving eyes, he found himself fond of how unsure you were. You were dressed head to toe in thousands of dollars worth of clothes and yet, you carried yourself like someone making little money.

He actually liked that.

It isn't everyday that a client seems down to Earth. It's been a long time since he hasn't felt on edge at a first meeting.

Were you hot though?

You certainly were attractive. You carried yourself well. You made him want to help get your payback immediately.

"Yeah, she was pretty cute," he admits nonchalantly.

"Just cute?"

Oh Christ.

Enough.

"I gu-"

"Leave him alone!" Jimin chortles, patting Guk on the back, "You know how he gets."

Thank God.

The youngest never talks about clients. Not anymore and he'd like to keep it that way.

While you were basically just an enigma wrapped in Balenciaga, Guk should determine on his own if he'd like to figure you out -- without the help of Hell's own personal gatekeepers.

His eyes skim over the practically empty gym until he finds the large clock on the wall.

"I actually have to start heading out. I have to meet up with Y/N in a bit."

The others exchange a look when he speaks your name softly and it's almost too hard to keep their smiles contained.

If they can count on one thing, it'll be that if Jeongguk really does find an interest in you they'll be sure to hear about it the next time they see him.

Entering your home after a long day of work, you find it very hard to do almost anything.

You don't cook for yourself, you don't clean, you don't get to sit down and relax and watch television.

You simply just… exist.

Today is the same.

Although, in just a little while, the handsome man you're paying to come to an event with you will be doing the exact same thing.

For the first time in a long time you feel bad.

He'll have to sit on embarrassingly hard furniture and stare at medically clean marble walls.

There's nothing to keep someone entertained in this house -- not even you.

You think about the backyard, how perfectly trimmed and neat it is with the black flower bushes and the white roses and maybe that's the place you'll take him. Maybe he'll find that you have some substance while you're back there.

Setting down your purse on the counter, you ponder what to do to make Jeongguk feel welcome.

It's not his fault you're dead inside, it's no one's fault really no one but the two little slimy fucks that are getting married.

It seems you mull it over for almost too long because the doorbell rings while you're deep in thought. The rich, meaty sound echoes throughout the empty, vastness of your mansion and it suddenly sends you into a panic.

"Oh fuck!" you gasp, turning around in circles like a madman as you smooth out your dress.

Your hands fly to your hair, trying to smooth it out without even having a reflective surface to truly make sure you look presentable.

When you waltz by the screen that shows you who's at the door, you're almost floored immediately.

This is only the second time you're seeing him now but he's just as handsome as the first time. He's taking in the mansion before him, looking around at everything like it's a grandiose amusement park and he isn't even inside yet.

There's something cute about it if you're being honest, the way he's staring at the fourteen foot tall double doors with his jaw practically on the ground makes you smirk even the slightest bit.

You stop your fiddling, leaving your long, sweeping black gown alone and your hands don't even reach for a strand of your hair.

It's almost like he's a siren and you're completely still and calm with him in your sights.

Taking a deep breath, you round the corner and open up the double doors with very little flourish.

"Hi," you chirp softly.

Finally, Guk picks his jaw up off the floor and he gives you a smile that's practically Earth shattering.

"Hey," he breathes, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder.

Within seconds you're turning back into that awkward, ridiculous woman you were during your first meeting a few days ago.

You take him in for a second, appreciating the thick steel chain hanging around his neck and the perfectly ironed dress shirt that he's wearing.

He looks perfect if you're being honest. So perfect that your only reaction is to turn right on your heels and march back into your sterile mansion for some sort of comfort.

Guk follows behind you, closing the doors and ogling at every little thing he sees.

"Selling wine pays well," Jeongguk gasps, whistling at the art pieces he sees.

There's the faint sound of opera bleeding through the mausoleum walls that buffers out the cold silence.

"I… um… I didn't pick up anything for dinner, if-if you're hungry," you announce, grabbing the champagne bottle and two stemless glasses.

"Oh! We can order whatever you like. That'll actually be helpful for me, I'll get to see your favorite type of food and make a note of it for when we go to the wedding," the escort replies.

This is work.

The fucking wedding.

You're really getting flustered up over someone you're paying to go with you someplace?!

Get a grip.

"Good idea," you breathe, chuckling awkwardly as you make your way to the vast backyard.

"Holy shit, this is beautiful." Jeongguk gawks, looking over the perfectly cut hedges and blooming flowers.

If he had to guess, he'd say you were a neat freak. There's not a speck of dust or a single crumb throughout your entire mansion and it makes him wonder.

Most clients he meets to find out more about them, it's merely just a formality.

But he's genuinely curious about you.

He's interested in how someone like you thinks and how you go about life.

"Please sit," you offer, sitting down on the black wicker chair that overlooks the stone pond just inches away.

Clearing his throat, your guest does the same.

He makes an effort to sit properly, although it does look like he's hurting himself in the process. His back is bent strangely and his hands are gripping at his bare knees through his ripped jeans uncomfortably.

He must not want to touch anything for fear of making a mistake.

You feel as if you should try and make him more comfortable, which is big for you when you seemingly adore how the interns at work literally run in the opposite direction when they hear your Louboutin heels clacking towards them.

"Treat this like your own place, it's okay," you promise, popping open the champagne.

Jeongguk gives you a polite smile. "Oh I don't think you'd want that. There'd be protein bar wrappers everywhere."

When you give the faintest hint of a smirk it seems to settle him a bit more.

Your smile is pretty, Guk thinks, it's a shame you don't smile very often.

Sliding him the glass of wine, you look out towards the backyard that you very rarely come to look at.

"Salmon sounds good for dinner?" you inquire, bringing the glass to your lips.

The escort can only nod. "I like salmon. Sounds doable to me."

This really isn't as awkward as you thought it would be. It doesn't feel painful to sit beside him.

That's nice.

Taking a sip of the wine, Guk wants to simply fall to his knees at the taste. It honestly tastes expensive, like you but there's notes in it that make him feel comfortable drinking it.

He's not used to this upper class sort of stuff. He's well off, sure, but he's not rolling in money.

"What kind of questions did you have in mind?"

He lifts his head a fraction only to see your head tilting toward him. With the setting sun in the background, you look like a grand painting like one of the ones he used to study in college.

It's a stunning sight.

Why the fuck would anyone hurt you?

His throat and voice box are nowhere to be found in all honesty, they've gotten lost somewhere within him and he's just not quick enough to find them before you look over at him inquisitively.

"Jeongguk?"

"Yes! Questions!" he coughs loudly, setting down his glass of champagne.

You're too busy berating your own self to catch his small moment of being flustered.

"My questions are simple in a sense. What's your favorite color, favorite type of music, favorite pastime? Then there are harder questions like your favorite memory, who your friends are. Just to get a sense of who you are so when we get to the wedding I'll know all the right things to say."

You nod thoughtfully, turning back to the stone pond as you sip delicately from your glass.

"My favorite color is lavender," you whisper.

There's a softness to your voice, a type of vulnerability that Jeongguk swallows thickly at. He finds himself thinking about your mansion, lavender is nowhere to be seen. Colors that aren't black and white simply don't exist in this expensive realm and while he thought that might be a stylistic choice, the way you've just spoken tells him about a million and one things all at once.

You're so very broken and these people that are getting married are the cause. He assumes that you were vastly different to the person you are now and he wonders for a moment what that person was like.

"Favorite type of music… I'm not sure I only listen to opera now," you answer, staring down at the water as it ripples at the slightest breeze.

"Why opera?" Guk inquire innocently.

"Drowns out the pain…"

God, you're fucking morbid.

You're absolutely horrified that you're coming off as this kind of psychopath. But then again, didn't you want this? Didn't you want people to fear you? Didn't you want to push people away and keep yourself locked in a castle of hard, sterile and nauseating?

"I'm sure it must be really difficult to open up and I'm sorry if it's pushing you. I just want to make these people eat their own shit and the only way I can do that is finding out more about you," Jeongguk offers, reaching over the table and laying his large hand over yours.

The chill from his many rings makes a shiver shoot down your spine and you find yourself trying to become smaller in front of him at the feeling.

He does want these people to pay. He wants them to rue the day they ever thought it would be alright to hurt you. It doesn't happen often when he finds himself aching for his client, usually because they only need him for a high school reunion or a date to their parents' holiday and they promised they have a boyfriend to get them off their backs. But he does feel your pain, he does understand even with the most minute information.

"What about your favorite memory?" Guk asks, trying to lighten the mood.

The question makes you think hard. You try to recall your happiest moments and although they're locked behind some doors, you think you might have a skeleton key somewhere nearby.

"I'm thinking," you promise.

The escort only nods carefully, still keeping his hand on top of yours as he looks around the perfectly kept garden.

He's coming to realize that all this money you have and the life you live is simply a show. If someone was to speak to you for more than two minutes they would realize what a complete and utter set up this is. You're living your life like an actress in a play, just letting the setting pieces set up behind you while you stand alone on stage.

Chloe was the opposite. She was boisterous and cantankerous and everything he didn't want to know but she drew him in so fast that it wasn't easy to leave when she sunk her expensive nails into him.

He wasn't moved by her, he wasn't hoping to help her -- he was merely with her. He was moving her set pieces for her so she could stay in the spotlight.

And suddenly Jeongguk realizes that he's drawing parallels between you and his ex which isn't right.

"My favorite moment is when my dad took me to the zoo for the first time. Zoo tickets were really expensive for my family back then. We barely did any activities besides going to the park because it was, y'know, free. But my dad knew how much I loved animals and how much I wanted to see them in person," you begin with a deep breath.

The escort can see how deep in your memories you are, the way your irises flit back and forth as if you're reliving right in this exact moment and the corners of your lips flickering upwards like a smile will almost crack your face like perfect china. But there's something endearing about it.

So perfectly endearing.

"I went the whole day running around and seeing all the animals, we stayed until they closed the gates and my dad even got me a stuffed animal to commemorate it even though he had to take money out of the rent for it. It's one of the best memories I have. I still have the little elephant upstairs in my bedroom," you finish, turning to Guk with a smile.

Your smile is true and wide, showing your perfectly white teeth beneath your dark berry lipstick and Jeongguk can feel his heart stutter for even a fraction of a second.

There is no way in hell he's not getting invested.

And there's no way in hell that he's leaving that wedding without making both of your ex's hate that they ever hurt you.

<---- Previous Chapter ----> Next Chapter

#at your service #ays #chapter 2 #chap 2 #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #bts fic #jungkook fic

226 notes · View notes

weministertomonsters · 1 year

Text

Taming Siberius

"Ahahaha!" Your best friend Elan is nearly falling on the ground as he laughs, clutching his stomach.

"Will you stop?" You huff. "This isn't funny."

"Are you seriously thinking about buying that?" He wheezes. "He looks like he wants to kill you."

"If you were stuck in a cage, I'm sure you'd be pissed off too," you reason, and peer at the demon.

He looks like a model fixed up for a fantasy photo shoot. But no cameras are flashing in this display window. The horns, the silvery skin, and the platinum hair are very real. The part of the eyes that would typically be white is gold instead, and he has no irises, only pupils that are huge and cat-like as he stares, unblinkingly at you.

And you look back at him long enough to realize he's not looking at you. He's staring at nothing. It's the sort of faraway gaze you can expect from someone who is in a place they don't belong. Your heart sinks a little but you're brought back to the present when Elan says,

"Resting bitch face," and tosses a handful of popcorn at the window.

You catch the exact moment the demon snaps out of it because you see his pupils shrink and sharpen as he looks at your friend. Damn, you'd hate to be on the receiving end of that look.

"How much did you drink?" You scowl. "I knew having a night out today was a bad idea."

"So what, my boyfriend ditched me. Big deal," Elan says, wobbling. "Who gives a shit about him?"

"Can you move?" An irritated voice calls out. "The last thing I want is a drunk teenager throwing up all over my display window."

"I will have you know I'm twenty-two!" Elan calls out. "I'm a responsible adult now."

"Uh-huh, sure," the shop owner says, entirely unconvinced of the latter. "Go and be responsible somewhere else."

"Actually, I was looking to make a purchase," you pipe up.

The shop owner brightens up. "Why didn't you say so earlier? Come on in. Leave your friend outside, they should get some fresh air."

"I'll be fine!" Elan says in a sing-song voice. "Go and get yourself a little pet."

You roll your eyes and step into the shop. You wince as the heavy scent of incense hits you.

"It's for the smell," the shop owner says. "Demons have a smell you know."

"Did I need to know that?" You muse.

"You want one, don't you? It's best to be aware of all the small details. Demons aren't like dogs, you can't just send them to the pound when you get tired of 'em."

The shop owner thunks a heavy catalog onto the table and says, "Before you ask, you can order them for a fee and get them delivered as well."

"I already know which one I want to get. The demon in the display window is on sale?"

"Lord yes, please take him!" The shopkeeper says quickly.

Of course, that immediately makes you suspicious. "Why?"

The shopkeeper clears their throat and says sheepishly, "He bites."

Your confused expression probably tells them all they need to know because they sigh.

"Hold on a minute, I'll fetch him so you can have a look."

You watch as they approach the brooding demon. You can tell the shopkeeper is afraid by the way they snatch the trailing leash off the floor. You're beginning to doubt your choice as he stands up, towering head and shoulders above the shopkeeper. This demon might be the figurative mastiff of the demon world. He follows the shopkeeper, but only because he wants to.

It looks like he's a little curious about you as well.

"Open your mouth," the shopkeeper orders.

The only two things keeping the shopkeeper alive at this point are the muzzle the demon is wearing and the taser the shopkeeper holds. You know for a fact that there's enough electricity in there to kill a horse. The demon glances down at the shopkeeper, seeming to bask in the way it makes them squirm. And then those golden eyes fall on you and the demon leans down until his face is level with yours. You have a pretty good view through the bars of the muzzle as he parts his lips in a sarcastic smile. The sheer amount of needle teeth bracketed by large canines weakens your knees.

"He's bitten people with those?" You gawk. "Are those people dead or missing limbs?"

"Not that I know," the shopkeeper says. "He only bites when you're rough with him."

"Promise I'll be nice," the demon says in a cavernous rasp that startles the shopkeeper as well as you.

"Since when could you speak English?" The shopkeeper says scathingly.

The demon clamps his teeth together and says nothing else, looking vaguely amused.

"Um, he might be a little too much for me," you tell the shopkeeper. "I want a bodyguard of sorts, not a murder machine."

"This is his last chance," the shopkeeper says. "Sure you don't want him? If not, he's going to the pits."

You wince at that. As scary as he looks, this demon is almost too beautiful to get messed up in the fighting pits. You hesitate and then ask,

"Can I have a trial run with him?"

"Up to a week," the shopkeeper says.

"Okay," you say. "I'll try him out."

─────────────── · · · · ✦

I keep trying to nail down this idea I have that monsters are treated as pets, toys, or "guard dogs" at best and slaves and gladiators and scum of the earth at worst. I can't get it exactly how I want and it's making me mad.

#exophilia #terato #monster x reader #monster x human #monster lover #monsterimagine

207 notes · View notes

whorekneecentral · 2 years

Note

What about getting bored of sitting on the couch in the dressing room of a fancy department store while Jenson tries on clothes. So he sends you away with his black card and wander around the store until you see the most perfect pair of fuck me heels in your size so you buy them. At home you wear your new shoes (and only your new shoes) and show off a little for jenson - seb anon

sugar daddy jenson my most beloved <333

Jenson was exhausted, sometimes he forgot about much you liked to shop. Today was no exception; dragging the man from store to store, the bags he was carrying began to pile up as each store went by.

“Done?” He asks, walking out the store with you and you shrug.

“Proba- oh! Wait, I wanna check for something.” You walk into the store next door, the heels lined up on the back wall of the store and that’s exactly where you were headed.

Jenson follows, dropping the bags next to his feet as he sets, watching as you looked at the rows upon rows, asking the sales women to bring a few pairs in your size.

He figured if you were going to keep shopping, he’s going to need a coffee to keep up. “C’mere,” he calls for you while you waited for the woman to return.

You walk over to him, standing between his legs as you look down at him. He reaches into his wallet and pulls out his card, the black card between his fingers. “Use that, get whatever you want.”

“Really? Anything I want?” You asked him, your hands fiddling with the collar of his polo.

“Whatever you want, babydoll. I’m gonna head out, put the bags in the car and get a coffee. You want anything?”

“My usual.”

Jenson nods, getting up and giving you a kiss. His hand reaching around to slip the card in your back pocket, patting your ass before picking up the bags.

You sat where he previously did, thanking the woman for bringing over the heels. You tried on maybe 4 or 5 pairs before you settled on one, walking up to the register with her to ring them up.

Slipping the black card, you slip it back into your pocket, thanking her once more when you take the bag from her. Jenson was waiting in the car, the windows rolled down and he was right outside the store.

You got in, handing him the card and setting the bag in the back seat with all the others. “Should we do dinner? I’m hungry.” He says as he heads down the empty road back to his place.

“Sure, whatever you want.” You smiled at him.

The two of you got home and you both went off get dressed. Jenson had a few things to do so you took a shower and whatnot in the meantime, leaving him to do whatever until he came up to shower.

You were in the bedroom when he got out of the bathroom. You were sitting on the bed, the shoebox opened on the floor.

“Those are new,” he notices, glancing at you. “Got them today.” You tell him, slipping them onto your feet.

You admired them in the mirror that hung by the closet, the man sits on the bed and calls you over, letting you sit on your lap when you reach him. “They look good,” he kisses your neck, pulling you closer.

“I thought so,” your hand reached up to touch his cheek.

His hand rubs down your legs, “I think your legs would look better over my shoulders though.”

You look over your shoulder at him, “what about dinner?”

Jenson moves you off his lap, letting you sit on the bed. He pulls you to the edge, your legs spread and he’s on his knees in front of you. One leg over his shoulder, the heel digging into his back.

“I’ve got what I want right here.”

#sugar daddy!jenson #jenson button #jenson button smut #jenson button x reader #seb anon :)

328 notes · View notes

jayspaceinc · 4 months

Text

15 Lines of Dialogue: Celia 💜

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

1. “Mami,” She waved her hands off her hair. “I like my hair like this. Our hair is pretty just like this, naturally. If I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”

2. “What can I say? I live for gossip, continue. But while we’re in a store so people can think we have interesting lives. Plus, Skater Chick Outfitters is having a sale,”

3. “We’re on the third floor, pendejo.”

“Hey! I speak Spanish too. Don’t try to treat me like a no sabo kid and just call me shit on the sly.”

“Who said it was on the sly? I said it right to your face.”

4. “There’s a lake. No sealife and it gets regularly cleaned,” Celia started grabbing their bags, handing Kori her backpack.

“How would you know it gets regularly cleaned?”

“I asked the ranger when we came in.”

“The one you were flirting with?”

“I wasn’t flirting. I was being… friendly? Something like that.” No surprise she couldn’t tell the difference between platonic and romantic interactions.

5. “Did we figure out dinner?”

Greyson held up the grocery bags he had on his arms. “We’re making ramen.”

“And s’mores!”

“The second one was his idea. Not mine.”

“S’mores sound great though.” Celia hummed as she took a peek into the bags. “Thank you for getting all this, Greyson. You’re such a strong man, aren’t you?” She pushed his glasses that were starting to slip back up

“Celia,” Greyson choked, as his face turned pink.

6. Girlfriend girlfriend girlfriend. Shut up. What do you know about being a boyfriend? Celia gripped onto the fork and plate she’d been holding in her lap, the fork slowly folding back on itself as her thumb pressed it down without even realising.

“Do you want another fork?” Kori offered her own, her plate finally clear. At least she had eaten.

“Why do you say that?”

She pointed to the completely bent fork in her hand.

“Oh. This. It’s fine,” Celia straightened the fork back out as much as she could. “See? All good,” She shoved the rest of the eggs down and gave the plate back to Greyson.

7. “I have a loose idea but I’d rather enjoy breakfast right now. What are you making?”

“Huevos rancheros.”

She snorted and covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, say that again for me please?”

“Huevos rancheros?” He repeated, this time a bit confused.

“God, you’re cute but boy do you know how to butcher some Spanish. It’s huevos rancheros not huevos rancheros.”

“Is that not what I said?” He asked, still lost on what the difference was in how she said it versus how he did or how he had said it incorrectly.

8. C: ding dong. mission control to kori: what’s ur coordinates?

C: that means how soon r u guys going to b here?

9. He dialed Celia’s number, almost in fear of what she would say.

“Yes?”

“I’m at the hotel but.. I can’t afford any of this. At all. In my defence! They hit me with a bunch of crazy charges! I mean 240 credits for roses? Just get some plant power person and regrow them.”

There was static on the other end for a long while before Celia sighed, “If you want something done, you have to do it yourself. Okay. Sit tight and try not to cause any more trouble than you already have.” She hung up the phone and left him to his lonesome.

10. “The moment a charmspeaker leaves, the effect wears off. Enchantment is well..” She looked over at the clerk that was still staring at her and waved. “It's much easier to get what you want, let’s just say that.”

“That’s because you flirt with them till they’ve just about ruined their shorts.”

“I have a process, Kori. You know this,” Celia popped a piece of gum in her mouth to rinse out the hotel clerk taste. “Alright, moving on, we officially have a place to sleep for the night which brings me to our next task–”

11. “What’s wrong with just being with one person? You’ve done it before.”

“But that’s not who I am.. There’s a reason it didn’t work out between us,” Celia said, pushing the food on her plate as she became uninterested in what would shortly become another monogamy lecture.

“Because you weren’t willing to make the commitment.”

“That is not what happened,” She snapped. He looked up from his tablet and her angry expression immediately softened. “Perdon.. it’s.. still a sore spot for me. I just don’t have what you and Mommy have where I can see myself with just that one person for my whole life.”

12. Celia closed her eyes for a moment and sighed as she looked in the distance once more. “I’m glad some people are happy and in love today. That couple over there has been there since I got off the elevator. It’s like I can hear their love.. Soft bells.. a violin to pair.. a hint of piano in the background, and is that a light harp i hear being plucked?”

13. “And if something should happen?”

“If something should happen..” Max let out a light chuckle. “You're the co-leader, use your wit and I’ll see you on the other side. Take that however you’d like,” He gave a dog whistle for Ayden to come to his becking, walking off down the hallway opposite to them.

“‘Take that however you’d like’,” Celia mocked before angrily spewing off a slew of Spanish curses.

“He didn’t mean it like that,” Summer said, jumping to Max’s defence for once.

“Oh whatever. You’re on his side because the barrel isn’t pointed at you. Let’s just look through the stupid fucking rooms.”

14. “Psychics are the last people you want to piss off.”

“Is that a jab?”

“It’s a warning,” Celia flicked him in the ear and went back to her seat.

15. “Hm. Do you wanna hang out for a little bit then?” He asked as they approached her door.

Celia sighed to herself, her hand resting on the doorknob. “Honestly, not really.”

Ayden pouted and his shoulders slumped in.

“Not tonight at least, I’m a bit tired.”

“From earlier today?”

“From all of my life. Goodnight, Ace,”

Bonus:

More art!

3 notes · View notes

tae-ffxiv · 2 years

Text

Prompt #23: Pitch

Guess who lost horny roulette today? Spoilers: it was me

So anyways,

cw: sexuality

---

Fingers trace over wet skin, following the line of a scar that hadn’t been there before. The question of its story unasked as he traces his fingers up toward his shoulder, over the pair of arrow scars that sit there - also new.

Ambaghai responds in kind, pushing aside the collar of Dayir’s robe so he can smooth a hand over his chest, brushing a thumb over unmarred skin where an arrow had once been, nothing left behind to mark its presence. Dayir watches the intent gaze fixed on his chest, seeking out answers that do not come. Then Ambaghai’s hands move to pull open Dayir’s robe fully - tugging it from where it’s tucked into his waistband in the process - to investigate the spot lower on his torso where the sword had been -

…something is off here…

– equally unmarked, unscarred. Not knowing that it radiates pain still, regardless. Ambaghai’s lips part as if to ask, but Dayir simply leans in, dropping his head to rest in the crook of Amba’s neck, and no question comes out. Only a hand sliding from the absent scar, around his waist, to rest on the small of his back.

Dayir brushes his thumb over Amba’s shoulder once more before he trails his hand back down over his chest, his ribcage, his stomach. He turns his head to press his lips to Amba’s neck - one of the few places he can kiss without his horns getting in the way - as his hand trails down further, still.

…this isn’t how it went…

But he stops questioning the scenario at a low gasp from Amba. At hands on his shoulders pushing off his robe, the sound of it falling to the floor as those hands shift to his waistband. The feel of Amba’s hair - still chill and wet from the bath water - as he twines his free hand into it. The feel of a pulse quickening beneath his lips, of Ambaghai’s hands shifting his pants away from his hips, and -

A high-pitched screaming fills his head. Greeted with confusion.

He’d taken the kettle off, hadn’t he? He’d put the stove out.

The warmth of Ambaghai’s skin melts away from him and he cracks open his eyes, bleary from fitful sleep. His eyes drift about the room and eventually land on the source of the noise. The kettle, hissing a stream of steam into the air as Amba rushes over to take it off the heat.

Dayir props himself up on an elbow and rubs at his eyes, and Ambaghai looks toward him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you, I got distracted.” He places the kettle to the side and Dayir lets out a grunt and tells him not to worry about it.

He fixes his eyes on Amba as he goes about putting together breakfast, resting back onto the mattress and trying not to allow any colour to enter his face as he reflects on what he’d just dreamt.

But the feelings linger. A thought floats through his head.

You could invite him over.

Is Khai here, or is it just the two of them? If it is…

As if in answer, another high-pitched sound rings out from the bedroom, and is stopped abruptly a few moments later. A few shuffling sounds, and then a thump as something drops to the floor.

“Ow! My toe! You traitor!” Another thump as whatever had fallen is placed onto a shelf.

So, not alone, then.

Khai emerges from the bedroom a minute later, and Dayir pulls himself from his own bed.

“Gonna take a bath.” He mumbles, as he heads out of the kitchen.

A cold bath.

—-

Bonus: A silly little scenario I thought of while I was trying to figure out what to write. Kind of along the lines of a sales pitch? Suggestion?

—

The shop is quiet, the only sound as Ambaghai bundles herbs to dry is that of a solution hissing slightly in the other room.

It’s peaceful.

Adkiragh - the shop’s owner - emerges from the back, starts sorting through the stock in the cabinets.

Ambaghai likes him. More than the noisy, over-energetic one. He seems as content with silence as Ambaghai does.

Just as he’s thinking this, the man utters a ‘hey’.

Ambaghai looks up from his task, and Adkiragh lofts a stoppered vial toward Ambaghai.

Ambaghai fumbles to snatch it out of the air, giving Adkiragh a questioning look.

“Your brother said your husband came back or something. Might come in handy.”

Ambaghai looks down at the via, its contents something he vaguely recognizes.

Water-based…

He recoils as understanding hits him, and tosses it back at the man with extra force.

“That’s not your business,” he exclaims, and turns his attention back to bundling herbs.

“If you say so.”

From the corner of his eye, he watches Adkiragh set the vial onto a shelf in a quite visible location before the man turns to take stock of the herbs in the cabinet.

He shakes his head angrily as he cuts another piece of twine and wraps it around a few dainty stems.

The subject doesn’t come up again.

Yet when he leaves work at the end of the day, it’s with a few less coins, and a glass vial concealed at the bottom of his satchel, where it lies untouched for quite some time.

#ffxivwrite2022 #cw: sexuality

4 notes · View notes

whitepolaris · 3 months

Text

indian Princess at Pike Place Market

Every so often tourists approach the flower sellers at Pike Place Market in Seattle and asks a question that goes something like this: "I saw an old woman sitting on the floor over there. She looked like a Native American. At least she had a bunch of native-style woven baskets on a blanket, as if they were for sale. I wanted to buy some, so I walked over. By the time I got through the crowd, she was gone. Who was she?"

The flower sellers usually smile and say, "That was Princess Angeline." If the tourist is from the Puget Sound, they smile or get very pale. People from out of town just look puzzled, until the merchant explains that Princess Angeline died over a hunndred years ago.

Princess Angeline was probably born in 1820 and was the first daughter of Chief Seattle. Her name then was Kikisoblu, and she was married at least once, to a man named Dokub Cud. After American settlers arrived in Seattle, she eventually met Catherine Maynard, wife of Doc Maynard, one of Seattle's founding fathers. Catherine Maynard told her, "You are too good-looking for a woman to carry around such a name as that, and now I Christien you Angeline."

In the 1850s, when Angeline was in her mid-thirties, the U.S. government ordered the Suquamish Indians to a reservation far away from their homes in Seattle. But Angeline stayed on. People started calling her Princess Angeline, because of her father's standing as well as her own dignified bearing despite her situation.

Princess Angeline and a handful of other Native Americans found work in Seattle and lived in various places. She had a small cabin on Western Avenue, between Pike and Pine streets. To make a living, she did laundry for the settlers and sold various native handicrafts, like baskets she made in the evenings. As she grew older, Angeline developed arthritis but kept to her routines. For years, people watched her familiar figure walking along Seattle's streets. She always wore a red handkerchief over her head, as well as a shawl to keep out the cold. Her arthritis was so bad in the wet climate that she eventually needed a cane. She stopped frequently to rest, and as she did, people saw her "telling" her beads, because Angeline had converted to Catholicism in her youth.

Not that she knew it, but she also became world famous. Many newspapers published articles and books about her, as well as bout her famous father. The two of them bridged the time between the end of the Native American lifestyle and the coming of the whites. Angeline died in 1896 and was given a magnificent funeral in Seattle's Church of Our Lady of Good Help. Her coffin, which was shaped like a canoe, was buried in Lake View Cemetery.

Over the years, Angeline's cabin was torn down and the area became part of the waterfront, until Pike Place Market was formed. The market quickly, expanded, and the flower market was built on top of, or very near, the site of her cabin. No one knows when, but at some point people began seeing a little old Indian lady quietly sitting on the floor claimed they recognized her as Princess Angeline from popular photographs.

Over the years, people have told stories of many sightings of Angeline. Most of the time she is seen in Pike Place Market, near the flower stalls. Her apparition looks so natural that almost everyone who sees her thinks she is a living person, though oddly dressed. They discover she's not only when they go to talk to her or ask to take a picture. Then she vanishes.

The Seattle to Bainbridge Island ferry dock is not too far away from Pike Place Market. Some people have reported seeing an elderly Native American woman hobbling onto the ferry with the aid of a cane. Once aboard, the woman walks over to one of the benches overlooking the Puget Sound and sits down. People observing the strange old lady have reported that she vanishes before the ferry reaches Bainbridge Island-they never see her walk off the ferry when it docks.

Some people believe Princess Angeline is looking for a new home. Some time ago, a group of shop owners brought in a shaman, who attempted to exorcise any spirits at Pike Place Market. Perhaps the shaman was not able to remove her completely, but she now feels unwelcomed and is attempting to find a more receptive home.

#weird washington #type read

0 notes

improvised-finish · 5 months

Text

Wondrous Tails - Cooking "Together" & Domesticity

"Soup's On"

My fourth work for Wondrous Tails this year! This one got away from me so I've doubled up on the prompts this time: Cooking Together & Domesticity. This one continues the previous story, with G'raha resolved to make some soup to help Y'shtola feel better!

You can check it out on AO3, or read it below!

G’raha once again found himself behind the kitchen counter, though this time he was searching for a book. A cookbook, to be more specific.

He’d known Lehon’a to whip up something delicious from time to time, and he could’ve sworn she’d bought some recipe books at one point or another. He hoped one of them might have a recipe for something hearty he could make for Y’shtola, who was still recovering in bed from the mystery illness she’d caught.

After a fruitless search underneath the counter, he eventually spotted them on a high shelf, sitting over a small work surface currently occupied by tea and coffee making equipment. He hooked a small step-stool nearby with a foot, and climbed onto it to inspect his options. Upon closer inspection, most of the books weren’t labeled (he assumed Lehon’a had just memorized which was which), so he pulled them off the shelf one at a time.

He'd leafed through a few of the tomes before he found one that looked promising: Soup for All Seasons. He quickly scanned over the table of contents, looking for something to inspire him, and about halfway down the page, he’d found it. ‘Fortifying Soup’, it was called. Not a very poetic name, but credit for utility at least, he thought to himself. He flipped to the page number provided, and looked over the recipe. It seemed pretty doable given the well-equipped kitchen, but he’d have to see what ingredients they had on hand.

He cautiously stepped down from the stool with the book in hand and set it on the countertop nearby, leaving it open to the recipe he was looking at. He returned the stool to its proper place with a gentle push of his foot and began to scan the kitchen for any sign of produce. Eventually, he spotted a wooden crate filled with vegetables at the opposite end of the kitchen, sitting atop another overturned crate to keep them off the floor. He began to paw through the produce, pulling out a couple purple-colored carrots and a small container of white mushrooms that was hidden near the bottom, along with a suitably large popoto. Placing the veggies on the counter next to the book, he double checked the recipe for the remaining ingredients: highland spring water, herbs, and salt. We certainly have salt, and I can check the garden outside for herbs, but what of that water?

He figured that since it was specifically named, it was better if he didn’t substitute average tap water for it, but he didn’t feel comfortable leaving Y’shtola alone long enough to run to a market board to see if there was some for sale. After a few more moments’ deliberation and another glance around the room, he spotted something that gave him an idea: the bell Lehon’a used to call on her retainers. He wandered out from behind the counter to the doorway where the bell stand stood. Beside it on a small side table sat a small basket filled with a type of coin he didn’t recognize at first. Upon closer inspection, he realized they were likely some kind of currency that Lehon’a used to pay the retainers for their services.

There were two names listed on the small clipboard attached to the stand, a “Maasia” who was a professional miner, and a “Soliaras” who was a lancer for hire. From what he could tell, it looked like the way to request one or the other was to ring the bell a different number of times: three for Maasia, two for Soliaras. G’raha stood for a moment, a bit nervous to do something like this without Lehon’a around, but eventually he decided that helping Y’shtola was worth the worry.

He took a sharp breath, and before he could think any better of it, gave the bell three staccato rings. After a moment, he saw a small glowing light through the front window and heard the noise that usually accompanied teleportation by aetheryte. He quickly grabbed a handful of the small coins in the basket and pulled open the front door.

G’raha was greeted by the sight of another miqo’te: he had long golden hair, and he wore dusty work clothes with a small pickaxe and hammer hanging from his belt.

“I’d say you were just the person I was hoping to see, but I don’t believe we’ve met before! Are you a friend of Lehon’a’s?” The stranger extended his hand. “Name’s Maasia.”

G’raha accepted the handshake. “G’raha Tia, pleasure to meet you. And I… suppose you could say that Lehon’a and I are friends, of a sort.”

“Oho, lucky man! Not everyone gets the venerable Warrior of Light in their bed at night, that’s for certain,” Maasia replied, correctly seeing through G’raha’s vagueness and grinning a mile wide (much to G’raha’s dismay). “So! Tell me your heart’s desire– aside from Lehon’a of course, she’s one thing I can’t bring back to you, no matter how many of those you give me,” he said, pointing at the coins in G’raha’s hand.

G’raha, already growing red enough to nearly match his hair, tried his best to compose himself.

“I’m terribly sorry for having bothered you; it’s not Lehon’a I’m in search of– at least not at the moment. I’m looking after a sick… friend of mine and I wanted to make her something to eat, but the recipe wanted something called… oh what was it?” He trailed off, trying hard to remember the name that had just escaped him. “Some kind of… highland water, I think?”

Maasia pulled out a small field notebook out of a back pocket, and began flipping through it, stopping when something on a particular page caught his eye. “This what you’re after?” he asked, turning the page in question to G’raha so he could read it.

The page read “Highland Spring Water” at the top, with a bunch of information in shorthand noted below that G’raha didn’t even begin to understand.

“That was it, yes!” G’raha pointed to the page emphatically.

“How much do you require?”

“Enough for a sizable pot of soup should suffice.” Maasia made a note in his book, then consulted some pages near the back before clapping it shut. G’raha held out the palm full of coins toward Maasia, unsure of how to pay. “Is this enough?”

Maasia let out a hearty laugh. “My good fellow, I only require one of those tokens for a request of this scale,” he replied, taking a single coin from the pile.

“Oh.” G’raha felt his face grow warm once again. “One more question, before you go: how long might this type of job take?”

“I’ll be back by the next bell at the latest, I guarantee it.”

“Right. Well, I’ll be inside waiting, so if you knock I should hear you.”

“Understood, see you soon!” Maasia said with a smile before channeling a teleportation spell to wherever he was headed. G'raha could've sworn he saw Maasia give him a wink before finishing the teleport, and let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when the spell completed. No wonder Lehon'a's more of a flirt than me, he thought. She has to keep up with this guy all the time.

He tried to put the encounter out of his mind as he turned towards the vegetable patch and planters that sat in the front yard. A quick lap around the garden yielded a grip full of herbs: rosemary, basil and thyme, plus some green onions. Satisfied with his haul, G’raha headed back inside to start preparing.

—

G’raha was washing the large chef’s knife and cutting board in the sink, repeatedly glancing up at the wall chronometer as the hands ticked toward the next bell. Behind him on the counter sat his handiwork: chopped vegetables, minced herbs, and measured spices, all ready for the eventual water delivery. He had peeked in on Y’shtola a couple times while he was working, and on one of those occasions brought her a damp cloth for her forehead to help relieve the nagging fever, but she had slept through it all.

With one tick of the chronometer left until Maasia’s self-imposed deadline, G’raha shut off the water just in time to hear a familiar noise outside. He quickly set the tools on the drying rack and scampered around the counter to the door, pulling it open just as Maasia had raised his hand to knock.

“Right on cue, my good man! I've got your water right here.” Maasia pulled a large glass jug full of what G'raha assumed was the spring water out of a satchel he'd just placed on the doorstep. G'raha reached out to accept it, his arms jerking downward with the unexpected weight.

“Is there anything else I need to do for you?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth!” Maasia exclaimed, punctuating his sentence with a laugh. “No, I already got all I need from you, unless there's anything else you require.”

“Naught comes to mind.” G’raha turned to go back inside, and then remembered himself halfway over the threshold and turned around. “My apologies, I suppose I’m a bit too focused on cooking at the moment, but thank you for the water. It gladdens me to know Lehon’a has someone so capable supporting her.”

“No need to apologize, I just hope your friend gets to enjoy some delicious soup. With that, my work is done and I bid you farewell.” This time G'raha definitely saw Maasia wink as he teleported away, and even though he'd had a bell to prepare himself, it still left him feeling a bit flustered.

He lugged the jug back inside and hoisted it up to the counter. Thankfully, the recipe from here was pretty straightforward: throw everything in a huge pot and let it simmer for a bell. One by one, all the prepped ingredients were added to the large steel stock pot that sat on one of the stove burners, with the jug of water emptied on top of everything. G'raha turned on the flame to a low setting, and then rounded up the remaining dirty containers and tools to place in the sink.

It's been a good while, I should check on her again before I do anything else, he thought to himself, gauging the chronometer as he walked back to the stairs. He crept down them with deliberate steps, trying hard not to make excess noise that would wake Y’shtola. He poked his head into the bedroom and noticed that despite Y’shtola continuing to sleep, the water glass on the bedside table was emptier than he'd left it. Probably woke for a brief moment and felt thirsty.

He moved into the room and collected the towel (now mostly dry) and glass while gently pressing a free hand to her forehead to see if the fever had improved. It was hard to tell exactly, but to his senses she seemed to have cooled down slightly from when he'd checked earlier. He padded back out the door and up the stairs, adding a book he'd recently started to his armful of items on the way out. He made sure to finish the dishes first, but after the kitchen was back to its original condition, G’raha took the stool closest to the end of the counter and decided to read, eagerly waiting for the next chimes of the chronometer.

—

G'raha looked up from the book and was shocked to see that most of a bell had indeed passed. He snapped the tome closed and hopped down off the stool to go take a look at the finished product in the pot. The scent had been slowly filling the air as the minutes had gone by, but he was eager to see if the appearance matched how good it smelled.

The first glance into the pot looked promising, and a small taste test with a spoon confirmed it: it came out exactly as he'd hoped. G'raha did a small celebratory fist pump and his ears wiggled a little, a sense of pride in what he'd made washing over him.

He quickly dampened a clean towel before filling two bowls of soup and two glasses of cold water, placing everything on a tray to carry downstairs.

He made sure to be extra careful this time; he'd hate to disturb Y’shtola and have soup cover half of the basement should he stumble. He reached the bottom safely, and nudged the slightly ajar bedroom door open the rest of the way with his tail.

He gently placed the tray on the bedside table, pulling the nearby chair slightly closer to the bed before sitting down.

“Shtola,” he said in a soft voice, gently rubbing the shoulder closest to him to try and wake her.

“Mmm…?” Y'shtola's eyes slowly cracked open; her expression changed from disoriented to relaxed upon meeting G'raha’s gaze.

“Well I… thought you might like something to eat since you'd said you hadn't had anything of late, so… I made some vegetable soup out of stuff that I could find in the kitchen.” He gestured to the tray and the two bowls of soup that sat upon it.

“I wish I could smell it properly, it sounds quite good,” she replied, slowly easing herself up into a slightly more elevated sitting position. G'raha quickly grabbed a spare pillow to place between her and the wall.

“Do you need any assistance with eating it? I could fee–”

“I can still feed myself, Raha. I'm not that sick.” She realized after she looked over at G'raha that it probably came off a bit snarkier than intended. “But I do appreciate the offer.”

“Then here you are.” He smiled at her and handed her a full bowl of soup and a spoon, which she eagerly took from him, careful to avoid spilling on the sheets. She dipped her spoon into the bowl, gathering a good mix of veggies and broth before bringing it to her lips. She blew on it gently to make sure it wasn't too hot, and then had her first taste. G'raha told himself he wouldn't stare, but he ended up eagerly watching her face anyway, trying to gauge her reaction.

It was as if all the color that had been missing from Y'shtola's face that day came rushing back the second the spoon left her mouth. She immediately went back for another spoonful, and smiled as she swallowed it. “Twelve above, Raha, this is delicious! Even after just a couple bites, I'm already feeling malms better.” She practically inhaled the rest of the soup in her bowl, nearly finishing before G’raha had the chance to have more than one spoonful. “Pray forgive my lack of manners,” she said, bringing the bowl to her lips and drinking the rest of the broth in one go, “that was too good not to finish entirely.”

“Manners are the least of my concern. I’m just glad you’re alright, my love.” Y’shtola froze for a split second when she heard G’raha say it, and he broke into a sheepish smile, like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

There was a brief moment of silence. Y’shtola cut through the tension by reaching for his free hand. “Thank you, Raha. I really mean that. Admittedly, letting others help me with simpler matters like this is something I’ve shied away from more often than not, and well… you’ve done much to make it easier for me to accept that help. To accept being loved, I suppose.” She sighed. “I’d been a bit hesitant when this relationship began. It’s not exactly the most common arrangement, and while we're certainly familiar, I hadn't made much of an attempt to be closer to you. I told myself that you deserved a fair trial before I came to any conclusions. And now I can see that you’re every bit the man Lehon’a thinks you to be. I know now why it is she loves you so, and for those reasons and more I’m sure I’ve yet to see, I love you too.”

G’raha squeezed her hand in return, trying his best to hold back tears of joy.

“Now, my chef in shining armor, I have only one more request. A true test of your worthiness, if you will.”

He wiped his face with the sleeve of his tunic, trying to regain some composure. “And what might that be, my lady?”

She glanced to the bedside table. “Could you trade me this bowl for a glass of water?”

After a beat, they both burst out laughing, grinning ear to ear.

“Of course, Shtola. I can do that.” He took the bowl from her hands and set it on the tray, handing her a glass of water with his other hand.

“Thank you again. Now it looks like you’ve got some soup to finish, if I’m not mistaken.”

G’raha nodded before having another spoonful of soup, surprising himself again at how well it had turned out. He carefully savored each portion, watching Y’shtola in between bites as she took sips of the water. In all of the time he’d known her, G’raha had yet to see her smile like this, and like the delicious meal in front of him, he wanted nothing more than to make it last.

After some time, when the glasses and bowls were all empty and he’d noticed Y’shtola starting to look a bit more tired, G’raha reached out for her hand to get her attention.

“I think I’m gonna take some of this stuff back upstairs and tidy up, but I’ll be back in just a moment, okay?” Y’shtola nodded, replacing the extra pillow G’raha had grabbed earlier before lying down again. He slipped out the door one last time with the full tray in hand, eager to return and join her in bed.

—

Lehon’a unlocked the front door and pushed it in, turning on the chandelier to compensate for the darkness outside. Timeliness wasn't always one of her strong suits, but even she hadn't anticipated being this late in returning. She dropped her pack by the door and spotted what appeared to be a bowl of soup on the counter along with a note addressed to her.

“My heart,

Y’shtola felt a bit under the weather today, so I’ve been looking after her in your absence. I decided to make some vegetable soup from one of your recipe books; I hope you don’t mind that I spent one of your retainer tokens to acquire a certain ingredient. If it’s any consolation, I think you’ll find the result was well worth it. I definitely recommend eating it warmed up if you can, so I left a smaller pot on the stove for you.

Much love,

G’raha”

Lehon’a set down the note and padded down the stairs, resolved to return for her soup later. She carefully peeked in through the bedroom door, and spotted her two partners curled up together on the near side of the bed, fast asleep. She had half a mind to shed her clothes then and there and join the cat-pile on the bed, but her stomach had other ideas. She gently closed the door and turned back to the stairs, cracking a smile at the thought of G’raha and Y’shtola finally figuring things out.

#my writing #ffxiv #my wol #lehon'a nhavareh #g'raha tia #y'shtola rhul #warrior of light #wondrous tails 2024 #wondrous tails of ffxiv

0 notes