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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

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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

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4ngel-inc · 3 months

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⁎⁺˳✧༚ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐖/ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 ᡴꪫ

notes — i'm not much into valentine's day but i had to make this (probably v cliche, lol) post for my valentine's-loving babies !! also this is my first time writing for jouno, tecchou+ like 3 others so bear w / me pls :')) i just wanted to write something special for everyone's favs !!

warnings — fluff, suggestive, some dirty talk.

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀 has never spent valentine's day with anyone, he isn't even aware of the holiday until you ask him to pick up your favorite snack on the way home from work one night and he notices there's a pink and red theme to the aisles—a quick google search tells him it's a "love" holiday, coming up quite soon actually, so he asks you what you'd like to do for it. you insist on brushing it off, saying it's a stupid holiday and a waste of money, but money certainly isn't an issue for him, and he was actually finding himself getting quite excited at the idea of doing something romantic for you, so he pulls through on the day of anyways and you come home to an apartment full of white roses. "umm, aku? what's this?" "hm?" he's sitting on the couch, surrounded by literally hundreds of roses as if it's just another tuesday, his head barely peeking over them, "oh, i thought you'd like them, is it alright? i can throw them away. . ." he nervously moves to grab some of the roses before you stop him, "no- no! i love them, actually." your voice softens, fingers tracing over one of the petals, "no one's ever done anything like this for me." he smiles at that, "so, you're pleased?" you pull him in for a kiss by his shirt lapel, and he blushes, "actually, i have little present for you, as well, why don't you relax on the couch and i'll show you?" as soon as your delicate fingers pop open the button of his pants, pulling them down around his ankles, aku realizes he definitely made the right choice in color—white roses symbolize purity, and there's nothing more pure than his love for you.

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 has gone on plenty of dates, had plenty of casual relationships—but being in a serious one makes him realize it's a privilege to make someone else happy, and he now jumps at the chance whenever he can. he's always been a romantic, but he goes all out on holidays, relishing the excuse to buy you pretty things and dote on you even more than usual. he's so silly, he always frowns when he realizes you aren't surprised he got you something—even though he always spoils you on holidays. "aww, you got me something, too? you didn't have to, princess, i thought we weren't celebrating this year!" he whines upon seeing the little gift bag hooked under your arm when you walk into your apartment, meanwhile there's a frilly pink apron tied around his waist, a spatula raised in his hand that's dripping red cake batter. "uh, you're one to talk, 'samu?" he looks around, "hm? this? i just wanted to do something nice for you, angel- i only decided this morning!" dazai knew he'd break the promise you two made to not celebrate, he was just excited to surprise you! but now you've gone and bought him a present too, and you don't even look surprised, he's so sad! "so, you're telling me the balloons, candy, roses, heart-shaped cake . . . weren't pre-planned?" you pull him in for a kiss, "it does smell good, though." he whines again, bringing a hand to his forehead for dramatic effect, "you know i'd never betray you like that, my darling angel! but is it really wrong to want to spoil my favorite person?" he's fake crying now, and you pepper kisses on his face until he stops, "mwah, no, not at all, 'samu- i can't wait to show you what i got for you!"

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 defaults to buying you expensive things, like flowers and jewelry—it's your first valentine's day together, and he wants nothing more than to make you feel special, to convey how much light you've brought into his life. all throughout the day, he's surprising you with gifts. you wake up to a shiny diamond necklace hidden under your pillow, "y'like it, doll? almost as pretty as you, my sweet girl." you exit the bathroom after brushing your teeth to a bouquet of red roses on your vanity table. he makes you dinner (ranked 6 out of 10 but he tried so hard), breaks out an expensive bottle of red wine to have with dessert (your favorite gourmet chocolate cake that he practically tries to hand feed to you), he rubs your feet, gives you kisses all throughout the day. after a while, you practically have to push him off of you, "chu, don't you think this is all a little, much?" he looks confused at that, "huh? i just wanted to make you feel special, you don't like it?" you frown before taking his hand, "it's just, i'd rather spend time with you just talking, or cuddling. . . i want to hear about your week and catch up like we always do. i don't need all the bells and whistles, i like our normal life." something clicks in his mind, and chuuya thinks he finally gets the whole valentine's day thing—it's a chance to spend time with the person he loves most in the world, it isn't about the material things. however, that doesn't stop you two from enjoying the countless boxes of chocolates he bought you that night, your feet kicked up on the coffee table as you two laugh and rant about work and whatever else comes to mind—it's the perfect way to end the night.

𝐅𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀 isn't really into the frills or outward displays of affection that often come with valentine's day—he's a very private person, so he prefers something intimate just between you two. even though you assure him he doesn't have to do anything special, he finds a reason to celebrate anyways—because, as he puts it, "each day with you is a blessing, i'll take any opportunity to celebrate that, my love." he decides to take you on a walk that night as the sun is setting, and it's truly perfect the way you two just stroll along in a peaceful silence, eventually revisiting the place he'd first told you he loved you. "do you remember this place, dear?" "of course, yukichi, how could i forget?" you turn to him with tears in your eyes, and he smiles, pulling you close as he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your hair—it's the first physical display of affection he's ever shown in public, but he's so overwhelmed by his emotions at that moment, he simply can't bear to not have his hands on you. "every day since then has been so wonderful, i'm lucky to wander through this journey of life with you." fukuzawa knows life with him isn't always easy, he's often busy, and you've told him sometimes you feel a little left out from that part of his life, but he tries his best to reassure you in moments like this—"i apologize for being distant at times, for being consumed with work, but please understand, i could never express how much you've changed my life for the better." fukuzawa isn't always the best with words, but there are times when his feelings just flow from his heart naturally, and almost always, those times are when he's with you.

𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 has so much on his mind, he forgets about valentine's day completely—it just isn't even on his radar. he doesn't go out in public much, so naturally, he doesn't have anything to remind him, otherwise he would've done something for you, really! fyodor doesn't understand the significance of such holidays, or why people would celebrate something trivial and made-up, but he always tries to make you feel special, nonetheless. he knows holidays mean a lot to you, and though he can be distant, he truly cares about your happiness. however, this year, he simply had other things to focus on, and it slipped his mind entirely. he's usually quiet when working, and you didn't expect him to take the whole day off for you, but you're hurt when he hardly steps away from his desk at all that day, only visiting the kitchen to fetch his tea a few times and place a quick kiss to your forehead, "i'll be done soon, is that alright, my love?" "um, sure," you realize as the day goes on he isn't going to celebrate with you, so you decide to go out and have a nice dinner for yourself—a solo date. when you return, he looks a little confused, "where did you go, darling? i wanted to spend time together before bed." you roll your eyes, "it's valentine's, fyo, i took myself out to dinner." you feel bad for the attitude, but you can't deny you feel forgotten. his eyes widen before quickly softening again, "come here, please?" he kisses you, stroking your hair afterward as he gazes into your eyes apologetically, "it is my fault, i was focused on other things. but we can still make the night special, yes? let's go out, you look so beautiful, my one and only."

𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐔 values honesty, so he counts on you to tell him what you want, rather than guessing. he doesn't have time for games, and one thing he loves about you is how direct you are. however, the first year you're together, you make the unfortunate mistake of brushing it off when he asks you about valentine's day—you'd told him it was a stupid holiday, that you didn't want anything, but you were only being polite, you didn't want him to think he had to get you something, but you'd been eyeing the balloons and boxes of chocolates wrapped up with pretty velvet bows. you really wanted tecchou to do something for you, even if it was just something little, but when the day comes, hours go by and nothing happens. you wait all day for him to pull out a bouquet of roses or a box of chocolates, pretending that he'd forgotten just to trick you, but he never does. when he kisses you that night and falls asleep only minutes later, you slip quietly out of bed, sneaking out to the couch and burying your head in your hands—you feel lonely and unwanted, and you aren't even sure why. it's a stupid holiday, but you at least wanted something. "babe?" tecchou sounds sleepy and confused as he flicks the light on, "why are you out here?" "ah! sorry-" you quickly wipe the tears from your eyes, "it's nothing, i'm just being silly." he comes closer, sitting next to you and stroking your hair, "what is it? tell me, please." his eyes show nothing but kindness, and you exhale. "i was just hoping you'd do something for me for valentine's day, i know it's stupid, i told you i didn't want anything, it's just-" he interrupts you, "no- no, i should've known, it's my fault." it isn't, but you appreciate his apology—he's always been so patient with you. "tomorrow, babe, i'll make it up to you, k?" you smile at that, and he kisses you. "come back to bed, i miss you."

𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐎 was intent on buying you something expensive, but you'd insisted you didn't want that—after everything he does for you, the way he protects you and cares for you, you wanted to be the one to show him how valuable he is. you decide to stay in and make him a fancy dinner, instead of wasting money on a crowded restaurant where you'd probably get slow service anyways. you know everything jouno loves to eat, and you've worked so hard to perfect the recipes over the past few weeks, but after trying everything at least a few times, nothing is turning out right. "my love," he slides a hand around your waist, kissing your neck, "hmm, why don't we just order in? we're running out of time, i wanted to spend the night with you." you sigh, "ugh, 'm sorry, babe, i guess i'm not a good cook, after all. nothing is coming out right." he smiles, and you can't understand why he would be happy about this, but you soon understand when he places a hand on your chest, "i know you're anxious, dear, your heart is telling me so, but you don't need to do all of this for me, i just want you-" his last word is punctuated by a hand gently squeezing your hip. you know him well, and you can feel the way his body calls to you, "ha- is that all you want for valentine's day, babe?" he moves his hand further down, slender fingers toying with the waistband of your jeans. he nods before placing a gentle kiss on your skin, "let's order in, love- i'm sure we can make something happen before the pizza guy gets here, yeah?" you laugh and push him away playfully, "jouno! stop it, you're so silly."

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 is so sad when you walk into his office with a little heart-printed gift bag tucked under your arm. "huh? o-oh," he practically jumps from his desk and rushes over to you, "u-um, i was gonna get you something, sweetheart, i just haven't had time yet, i thought- m-maybe i'd give it to you tonight at dinner? it'll be bigger than that one, too, much bigger!" he's frantic, and you look a little confused, though he doesn't understand why. "wait, what?" sigma hates the feeling settling in his stomach, he hates the thought of losing you—it's unbearable, even. "it's just-" he responds, "someone gave you that present . . i'm a little disappointed, i wanted to give you something, but now you've already received a gift." his voice lowers in volume, gaze dropping to his hands, "i should've given you something sooner, i'm truly sorry." you're probably going to break up with him since he utterly failed at his first valentine's day with you, someone else has gone and swept you off your feet before he could! he braces himself for the words he's always dreaded most, the moment you tell him you're no longer interested in a relationship with him, but they never come. "babe, no-" your thumb brushes his cheek, soothing the burning heat on them, "i got this for you! for our first holiday together." your smile is so bright as you hand him the bag, but sigma can't even think of opening it as he places it on his desk wordlessly, grabbing your face and pulling you into a deep, messy kiss, "i-i thought i'd lost you, you're still mine?" you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands roam your body now, "i'm yours, sigma, and 'm so lucky that you're mine."

𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 pulls out all the stops—he does all of the cliché stuff he's seen in romance movies, plus asks a few of the ADA members what he should do for you. you're the first person he's ever dated—the first person he's even opened up to since starting his new life away from the orphanage, and he just wants everything to be absolutely perfect for you. after receiving so much advice from dazai, yosano, and even ranpo, he decides he can't make up his mind—so he does a little of everything! he buys you flowers, tons of chocolates, balloons, stuffed animals (one of them so big he can barely fit it through the door of your apartment), and even tries to make you dinner. he burns the steaks and the "baked" potatoes come out of the oven still raw, but even so—the fact he tried so hard makes you melt into a puddle, though you're not sure where you're going to put all of this. "atsushi?! this is all for me?" you look bewildered, and he scratches the back of his head, "ah- is it that bad? i wasn't sure what to do, so i kiiiinda went a little overboard. maybe i missed the mark, though." you stop him before he can continue, "no! i love it, really. i just wasn't expecting. . so much." he's starting to feel a little self-conscious, but your lips on his soothe his doubts. "i really love it, babe. you didn't have to do all of this. i would've been happy just to fall asleep next to you. how was your day?" you brush your fingers against his cheek, and he relaxes a little, "ugh- stressful, honestly. i could hardly get that one through the door," he points to the massive stuffed bear towering over you two, and you both laugh.

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐏𝐎 loves candy and sweets, so naturally, he loves valentine's day. you were expecting him to completely ignore your first valentine's day together, saying something like, "meh- i can eat chocolate any time i want, why's it have to be out of a heart-shaped box today?" however, he surprises you with an apartment full of sweets and baked goods on the day of. "ta da!" he pops up from behind the kitchen island when you stroll out of your bedroom that morning, rubbing your eyes as you realize what's before you. "ranpo? what's all this?" there are trays of pink, red, and white cookies and candy and pastries laid out on the marble countertops. "huh?" he pouts, "did you actually forget it's valentine's day today?" he laughs a little, "ah- it's no problem. i've got us covered!" as the day goes on, you start to wonder if ranpo is celebrating your love today, or just celebrating for himself. "uh- honey?" "yeah?" he looks away from the bowl of popcorn in front of him to glance over at you, and you smile a little—though you were hoping for a little more affection today, you can't deny how handsome he looks when he's enjoying one of his favorite treats. "hmm- nothing, d'you like the movie so far?" "eh- it's a little boring, i already figured out who the villain is, of course." you giggle, "of course, should we watch something else then?" he grabs the remote and flicks the tv off, putting the bowl down and turning to you, "actually, i wanted to tell you something." you aren't sure what to expect, but he continues before your mind wanders too far. "you know i'm not good at things like this, but. . ." he takes your hands in his, "i've very grateful to spend today with you, i hope it's made you happy as well."

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈 never thought he'd feel enlightened from a relationship, rather than feeling tied down by it. as someone who values nothing more than freedom, he was quite wary of getting into a relationship—most he'd seen didn't seem all that fulfilling at all, nothing but arguments and tears and maybe a few sporadic moments of happiness here and there. however, you quickly teach him that that isn't the case at all—we're designed to love, and he gets that now, as his arms are wrapped tightly around you, the two of you lying on a blanket on the soft grass and looking up at the twinkling stars. "are you sure this is all you want to do today, my dear? it's valentine's day, after all." "mhmm," you snuggle into him, "this is where we had our f-" he cuts you off, "our first date, i remember it well, though it was daytime then." you laugh, "yes, it was summer and hot as hell—and you had me running all around this park trying to figure out your stupid scavenger hunt, i almost died!" he pouts at that, "aww, you never did figure out what was waiting for you at the end." you glance at him, finally tearing your eyes away from the beautiful night sky above you, "i love you, nikolai." he looks a little taken aback at the change in subject, but there's nothing he'd rather hear more than that coming from your lips. he sits up, and tugs on your arm for you to follow. you sit facing each other with your legs crossed, your face cradled in his hands, "i love you, too, my shining star. you're my love, my angel, my everything. thank you for showing me that love can be freeing." you start to cry, but he wipes your tears away quickly before jumping to his feet, "now then! shall we finish that scavenger hunt? i'm sure your prize is still out here somewhere!"

#— love notes: [bsd] ୧ ‧₊#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #atsushi x reader #ranpo x reader #tecchou x reader #akutagawa x reader #fukuzawa x reader #nikolai x reader #jouno x reader #sigma x reader #bsd fluff #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd headcanons

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crystallinestars · 9 months

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How they choose an engagement ring for you

Short little headcanons (scenarios?) about how the boys go about picking the perfect engagement ring for you.

Features: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Ayato, Itto, Kaveh, and Alhaitham. Reader's gender isn't mentioned, but Ayato's part implies fem!reader.

🦉Diluc – The more time Diluc spent with you, his lover, the more sure he was that you are the one. He knows he wants to spend he rest of his life with you, and so he decides to ask you to marry him. But first, he must find the perfect engagement ring to convey his sincere feelings for you. The Ragnvindr family is of noble origins, and Diluc is no stranger to expensive and beautiful jewelry. He decides to have your ring custom-made to ensure it encompasses all your favorite design elements. Diluc wants it to appeal to your tastes as much as possible because he wants you to like it, and he’s more than willing to spend extra mora to achieve this. The engagement ring will look beautiful and feature a garnet as the centerpiece—specially requested by Diluc. Garnet symbolizes unconditional love and protection for one’s partner, and Diluc swears to love you unconditionally and keep you safe for as long as he lives, even if he doesn’t say it aloud. He takes a more traditional approach in asking you to marry him, first wining and dining you before taking you out to a scenic place. He’ll get down on one knee and show you the ring, finally asking the question. It will be one of the few moments in his life where he will bare his heart to you and leave himself vulnerable.

🦚Kaeya – He never thought he’d find someone he’d want to marry, but here he is, browsing through Marjorie’s selection of engagement rings out of drunken impulse. He imagines how each ring would look on your hand, taking into account whether you would like the style and color because he knows your preferences down to a science. Kaeya tells himself this isn’t that serious, it’s just a fun little ‘what-if’, but he sees the perfect ring he knows will look stunning on your hand, and the same drunken impulse makes him buy it. Kaeya considers returning the ring when he sobers up the following day, but something stops him. He keeps telling himself he’ll do it later, but that later never comes. Days turn to weeks, and week into months, and that ring still sits in its box in his pocket. He’s joked about marrying you plenty of times before as a form of flirting, but asking the real thing feels impossible to Kaeya. It’s not until you find the ring by pure accident and piece things together yourself that the impossible turns to reality. Kaeya will play it cool and try to make light of the situation, but internally he will be a nervous wreck. If you accept, he’ll be over the moon, but if you reject him, he’ll be crushed.

🐋Childe – Nothing is too expensive for Childe to afford, especially if it’s a gift for you. While picking out an engagement ring for you, he will focus more on the look and style of the accessory rather than the price. His main concern is finding something he thinks you will like and will look good on you; he’s literally not concerned about the price at all. Childe buys you a ring with a large gemstone in your favorite color and an engraving on the band about his undying love for you. The Harbinger loves spoiling you by giving you gifts since it’s one of his love languages, and to him, nothing speaks louder than an engagement ring of the highest quality money can afford. Plus, an extravagant and expensive-looking ring will clearly indicate to other men that you are taken and provided for. It’s both a show of love and a means to stake his claim. He’ll wine and dine you before posing the question and pulling out the ring. Childe will be visibly excited because he really wants to take your relationship to the next stage—he knows he wants a future with you, and he hopes you do too.

🔶Zhongli – Another man that’s not concerned about the price when purchasing you the ring (Hu Tao will chew him out for putting the bill on Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s tab again). Zhongli has a very discerning eye when it comes to minerals and craftsmanship. He carefully appraises every ring on display, studying the quality of the metal in the band, the cut and polish of the gemstone, and the skillfulness of the craftsmanship. He will easily spot any flaws in the ring’s design or any fakes that a sneaky merchant might try to sell, so rest assured that you will receive a ring made of only top quality materials. He takes his time in selecting the perfect ring. His love for you is pure and true, and he wants the ring to reflect that. Anything less than the best won’t convey his feelings for you properly, or so he thinks. He’ll take you out for dinner first and then on a nice stroll around Liyue Harbor before asking the question and pulling out the ring, being very charming and polite as he does. He’s very calm about the whole thing, but will hide his disappointment if you say no.

🧋Ayato – After the passing of his parents, Ayato kept their wedding and engagement rings as a memento of sorts. The rings symbolized the loving bond between his parents, and he wanted to remember that. When Ayato developed a deep, intimate bond of his own with you, the thought of marrying you crossed his mind. He knew he could easily afford a high-quality, expensive engagement ring since he was the head of the Kamisato Clan, but he ended up choosing to give you his mother’s engagement ring. The passion and love that his father harbored when giving the ring to his mother are the same feelings Ayato feels towards you. In his mind, this engagement ring is the perfect physical representation of those feelings, and also a good way to welcome you into the Kamisato family. He would be slightly nervous about asking you to marry him, but he would hide his nervousness well. He truly wants to form a family with you, but he’s aware being the spouse to the Kamisato Clan head will come with it’s fair share of responsibilities, and he will understand if you choose to reject him. But if you accept, then Ayato hopes to use his parents’ old wedding rings during your marriage ceremony too.

🐂Itto – It is well known that Itto barely has a single mora to his name. The man can barely afford to buy food much less an engagement ring. Itto thought about giving you a cheap imitation of one, or crafting one out of flowers because it’s the thought that counts, right? But after some thought, he decides that no, he wants to get you a proper ring to show you how serious he is about wanting to marry you. With his mind made up, Itto will work hard to earn money by taking on various odd jobs. He can’t hold down a single job for long, but for the sake of your ring, he tries. It takes the oni a long time to scrounge up the necessary money because he will turn down any help from his gang members. He wants to obtain the ring through his own effort and nobody else’s. Itto won’t be able to afford a fancy ring with the money he saves up, so expect it to look simple but tasteful (thank Shinobu later for helping Itto choose a nice ring for you and avoid getting scammed). His proposal will be public and flashy, but he’d be really nervous about asking you to marry him, even dropping the ring and almost losing it because of his nerves, but rest assured you will receive it.

🍷Kaveh – The architect is very picky when it comes to choosing you gifts, more so this time since it’s an engagement ring to you from him. Kaveh went to a local jeweler to look at their selection of engagement rings, but he wasn’t satisfied with anything they had. This ring’s jewel is the wrong size, that ring’s metal is the wrong shade, and this one’s design isn’t pretty enough for your likeness. Disappointed, Kaveh decides that he will make you the perfect engagement ring himself. He takes weeks to design it, filling his sketchbooks with sketches of potential designs and crossing off failed attempts before he finally settles on one he thinks will look perfect on your hand. When the time comes to craft it, Kaveh buys only the best quality materials, taking on more commissions to be able to afford them. He works on the ring in his spare time, being careful to ensure every aspect of it looks as perfect as his artistic skills will allow. Once its finally finished, Kaveh feels proud of himself, confident that his ring will be one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry you will ever see—and it honestly is. Even so, he’s still nervous about actually popping the question and giving it to you. When he finally works up the courage, he will take you out on a super romantic date that’s been planned down to every detail. The only unpredictable part about it will be your response to his proposal.

🎧Alhaitham – He’s not exactly frugal when it comes to buying things he likes or thinks are necessary, but he won’t buy you a super expensive engagement ring. In fact, he will get you a simple silver ring with minimal decoration. Haitham prioritizes function over fashion. He doesn’t see a point in giving you an extravagant and flashy ring that would probably hinder you in your daily activities when a simple ring will serve the exact same purpose and be less bothersome. But just because it doesn’t look extravagant doesn’t mean it’s cheap. Oh no, Haitham makes sure the metal is the real deal and made by a professional craftsman. He understands this would be a big step in your relationship, and he wants the ring to convey the seriousness of his feelings for you. The Scribe also won’t make a fanfare out of gifting it to you, he will simply pose the question during a calm and private moment between the two of you. He won’t show any nervousness or excitement on his face, and will be very understanding if you refuse but a part of him does hope you will agree. Haitham seldom likes to spend his time in the company of others, so for him to want you to be a permanent part of his life speaks volumes to how much he loves you. Not having you be a part of his life would certainly leave a mark on him.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #zhongli x reader #tartaglia x reader #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #itto x reader #arataki itto x reader

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