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inlocusmads · 10 days

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"one word from you and I would..." ~ emma x trystan

.. or how Trystan and Emma's lives melt into each other after they move in together.

wc: 1.6k | general audiences

a/n: So basically I got talking with @thosehallowedhalls about a recent drabble she'd written and Caro wanted me to write something for T and E. So.. I hope I did them justice lmao. Once again please excuse any glaring grammar errors. I didn't have a chance to edit it properly because I was too excited to share.

title inspired by 'first love/late spring' by mitski

Changes took time.

Trying to get luggage up two floors in spite of elevator assistance also took time.

You would call the first few days the honeymoon period. Emma and Trystan shared many slow morning breakfasts. It was an easier commute to work. The bags weren't unpacked just yet - there was still time for that. Theatre date nights- first class seats only to come back home and talk about it late into the night.

A few pieces of clothing were unpacked but for the most part, the bags stayed near the doorway. No. There were more important things to focus on. Mainly a relationship with cohabitation. Mornings with the sun gently caressing their face. Evenings spent curled up for warmth, until somebody woke up in the middle of the night to turn off the lamps.

There was always this certain amount of life that welcomed Emma into her new home. Whether it be Trystan talking loudly into his phone or soft “mmhmm” when she came back after a particularly long work day, there was something special about this. Trystan also had a skip to his step, as if he couldn't believe the penthouse could finally permanently echo the sounds of Emma's voice and the way she moved, a water's rushing pace but enough to make loud footsteps that he had etched in memory.

And yet the bags collected dust.

“You know, we should probably do something about it.”

“Where do we start?”

Trystan made her space for a closet. It all felt too much all too soon for Emma, of course. To get used to the height of luxury and have her requirements taken care of was such a whiplash from the survival game she spent playing even whilst asleep, in her apartment. A waltz, almost. Trying to get her things fit into Trystan's apartment without stepping on his toes. She quickly realised Try

stan played a similar game. He was careful to accommodate her with this certain deftness as of a gymnast. Constantly sandwiching his things on top of other things to make more space. Giving her enough room on the bed and almost falling off the ledge. It felt so new, so raw to him that it didn't occur till the third or fourth week that there was still this distinct divide between his life and Emma's.

Emma took her breakfasts at seven or eight in the morning. She consumed things that didn't need refrigeration and hence they all sat idly in a forgotten corner. Her clothes were shades of red, black and grey and stood so far away from Trystan's, nearest to the closet door almost. As if they were trying to imply to their hardest of abilities that they belonged to a stranger, almost. Emma's coffee mugs were open on the counter whereas Trystan's sat proudly on their little designated racks.

There was still a very distinct divide.

“You know, we should do something about it. You can have the fridge- you can - put things up on it-”

“But you know I am already feeling much at home.”

“-- make yourself at home. And I would like to have something up there. Something of yours”

“okay. Okay. Sure. Upon your request.”

Trystan was good with words. Sometimes. Emma could only laugh at how flustered he became at how direct and awfully poignant he was being. He wanted to do a good job, as if he were some sort of party host. Nevertheless to ease his concerns, Emma pasted a little picture of the earliest photo of their partnership from her camera roll. It was one of them both taken by Uncle Tommy in front of the Drunk Tank. Both a little loopy in their heads following Emma's discharge. It felt good to put that up. Ensure Trystan was as included in her life as he took initiative for her. She would have gone with a Shakespeare quote but it didn't hit the same way.

Mornings went by great. Waking up to grab her mug from the countertop and milk from the fridge, a small smile whenever she saw the picture. And yet somehow there was this sense of emptiness to it. A little unsettling when she would watch the sun rise, baking the buildings in the New York City skyline from Trystan's balcony. It didn't feel quite at home yet. Perhaps Trystan was right. She'd checked off all the boxes, yes, but it was a lull period. The slowing down of the enthusiasm of moving in, coupled with the anxiety of locking horns with each other over accommodating each other's habits.

Changes took time.

Emma tended to wake up a little early. When Trystan reached for his cup of coffee, the milk wouldn't be near the fridge as it always would have been. Emma left her phone to charge in the study which would clash with Trystan if he'd ever been in the mood to get some reading done - a hundred missed calls and a hundred more. Trystan took longer showers, which greatly annoyed Emma. He had certain blanket preferences which would leave her cold and dry or too warm for comfort.

But perhaps they would leave each other a kiss goodnight everyday, knowing they'd learned a little more about the other than the day before.

Trystan now knew Emma got up early to enjoy some sunrise. She took her coffee in a specific way. She left her phone charge facedown, perhaps a little concerned about the sheer number of notifications from Ticketmaster and other apps about new theatrical adaptations near her area. Emma learned Trystan took longer showers due to its therapeutic value. He took the blankets to find a source of comfort; self-assurance and safety contained in the enclosure of a weighted blanket.

Changes took time.

“You know we should do something about it.”

“We are not going to IKEA at the crack of dawn in the morning.” Emma groaned. “I think we can tackle it if we just sort things out.”

“It’s -- everything is everywhere. And you said no to getting a shelf.”

“No shelves. We're tackling this from the ground up.”

“And I am assuming we cannot avail our penthouse’s cleaning services either?”

“Trystan. It's our stuff. And it isn't going to take too long.”

Every relationship has its own twist in the road. A turning point. Something pivotal. For Trystan and Emma, there had been a number of them. Never had they expected one such culmination of change to occur during something simple as a closet reorganisation. Suddenly the house had shredded its old skin behind to adapt something entirely different. Things were moved around, so one could find Emma's legal pad on the kitchen countertop conveniently next to Trystan's charging port. Mugs were no longer designated by ownership. Emma, under earlier circumstances would have never forgiven herself had she taken one of Trystan's mugs and yet there she was, on a bright Sunday morning, drinking hot beverage from a cup that no longer bore a name. That no longer needed to.

The desk she had from Trystan's study had a shiny new plaque on it. A gift. Emma. It said, in bright letters, almost informal. Away from the constraints of Rose. Mails were few and sparse and mostly went to Trystan, addressed simply as Trystan. Packages came by - addressed to them both and Emma's heart leapt everytime it bore her name followed by her address. Her address now. Their things.

And yet of course as well as things blended in together, they were still distinct on their own. Not so much of a divide that is, rather the simplest acknowledgement of their differences. Food arranged neatly in cabinets with one more person's dietary needs to take into account. Their regular cutlery and utensils sat on opposite ends of the same rack, optimal for a quick meal or two. Detergents in the laundry room came in two different colours and fragrances, specifically catered to Trystan's blazers and Emma's leather jackets.

Walls had their emptiness replaced with pictures. The ones Emma took had a distinct blur across the edges while the ones Trystan took had saturation. The refrigerator didn't just end with one piece of artwork on it, rather a collection of things they'd seen and pocketed. A takeout menu from a shop they really liked. Trystan's very first photograph of the New York City skyline matched with Emma's picture of the skyline from the balcony of her new home. Sunrises to look forward to. Sunsets to sleep soundly to. The pictures brought it to life, along with solid-colour throwaway pillows on the couch complementary to beautiful embroidery work on the couches themselves. A warm fireplace fed into, with a mantle on top with Emma's private eye licence.

It took eight weeks. Eight weeks for Trystan to convince himself he knew everything about Emma only to get thwarted with new information on how she preferred her vegetables. Eight weeks for Emma to convince herself there could not be more of a mystery to Trystan, only for her to want to keep solving for clues over and over again- at the slightest hint of his signature perfume.

“I’ll be honest - I cannot believe it took me such a short time to get used to this.” Emma confessed.

“Short time? If I can be honest, it took me longer to adjust to this. I felt like I had to somehow study your behaviour - to kind of understand what you like and what you don't.”

“It's been easy for me. You're kind of an open book.”

“I seem to be an open book but - perhaps it was just easier for you-- given you can see a part of me from my home.”

“That is probably it. I don't know - it's - it's nice seeing you in your natural habitat. It's so strange- you know? Seeing you here. I am almost convinced you walk out with a mask on.”

“Don't we all?”

“Well - I'm just - y'know - thankful and-”

“Oh shut it.” Trystan refused to accept her thanks, adding a little milk to her coffee just the way she liked it.

Changes took time.

____

A/N: Thank you for reading! I really hope I did Trystan and Emma's characters some justice if not none lmao.

Tagging my list here:

perma: @stars-are-within-me @thosehallowedhalls @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @dutifullynuttywitch

crimes only: @trappedinfanfiction @moominofthevalley

#trystan x emma #w:inlocusmads #gifts for friends #crimes of passion

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hey-imma-fangirl · 4 months

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Merry Christmas!!!

And Happy Holidays!!!

I made a few gifts! ^^ I’m sorry they’re not much but it’s what I could do with my schedule. I hope you like them!!

Merry Christmas! And if you don’t celebrate Christmas, have yourself a wonderful day! ^^

@demonangelgirl134

@nightmaretherabbit

@fizzypopsoda-comics

@tomasitaoficial

@purplemang0z

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runawaymun · 4 months

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Kita looked down where their hands met, then up at Moriah. “I know you and Ipati aren’t— but— have you ever liked anyone? I’m just admittedly curious.” It truly was a personal question this time and that came as a surprise to Moriah. She answered, “No. No, I’ve…” It was her turn now to look away, down at her hands “…Never met a man who interests me in those regards.” Kita leaned forward. “But…there are so many more kinds of people than just men.”

not the scene pictured, but I do love this little section of dialogue so I'm tacking it on anyway :) Merry Christmas, @the-commonplace-book!!!! Thank you for being the best writing partner anyone could ever ask for (and the best platonic partner, too!!) Here, we finally have a drawing of Kita and Moriah! :D

Kita and Moriah are OCs from the sci fi series the two of us are working on. Kita (left) is a pythia from the planet Thol. Moriah is the queen of Ceres. We had no idea these two would hit it off so well when we put them in a room together but, uh, here we are.

GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS 🌈

#my art #gifts for friends #the sci fi project #my ocs #kita (OC)#moriah (OC)#kita x moriah #this makes me OUTRAGEOUSLY happy #i hope you like it!!!!#i meant to wait to post this at 7AM but it's been such a shitty christmas so you get it at midnight babyyy #HAVE YOUR EYEBALLS BLASTED WITH LESBIANS

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cloudofbutterflies92 · 4 months

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Two damaged people, trying to heal each other is love

Worsties(I love them 😌🩵), a little gift for @corvosattano 💕

#oc: lily watt #philip graves #graves call of duty #v: nothing personal #gifts for friends

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choicesmc · 2 months

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Nora Lin Rose

Leo Tolstoy / Devil's Price - Dead Man's Poison / Revenge - Letitia Elizabeth Landon Recovering: A Journal - May Sarton / Dora: A Headcase - Lidia Yuknavitch / a note on the body - Danez Smith / Feel It Still - Portugal The Man /John Ford

for: @inlocusmads

#oc/mc #fanwork #gifts for friends #hopefully i did a good job getting her vibe!!#had lots of fun tracking down all the stuff here!

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fullmetaldevil-blog · 2 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY @inkspottie !!!!!!

Hope you have yourself a fantastic day and lots of cake!!

Rockstar Lolbit of @inkspottie 's design from her "Laughing at Tragedy".

#laughing at tragedy #rockstar lolbit #lolbit #fnaf #gifts for friends #i hope you have a ton of fun today #inkspottie

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darqx · 4 months

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MER CRISIS @morthern! We forgot to do a "card trade" last year but despite the last minuteness we are on again for this one haha. On the ref sheet for her undead sniper charac Vadim there was one line that said "constantly hangry" and this was the first thing I thought of (￣▽￣)ノ

#art #christmas card trade #card trade #art trade #gifts for friends #christmas 2023 #blood #friend oc #i would like to thank devinellekurtz for the cityscape brush pack ive only used it twice so far and its saving my life #sz

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likesofsue · 1 year

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This is another little gift and personalized piece for @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @ajokeformur-ray Today this idea popped into my head and I wanted to write it down. Maybe you'll like it and it will help a tiny bit. We all love you very much and we are here for you. Always. I hope you are taking care of yourself and that you don't forget to take a little break every now and then. Please keep Eddie and Uncle Wayne close to you.

Summary: You've been feeling pretty bad lately, and Eddie knows it. So he decides to make it his mission to pick you up from your job and make sure you get a little break

Tw: physically and mentally exhausted reader with self doubts -> but it's a fluffy comfort piece

Wc: 884

Eddie's eyes pop open. He snaps his head back and curses. Only Eddie is capable of nodding off, even though Iron Maiden is playing so loudly that the windows of his van clink in time. His heart beats wildly as he stares at his wristwatch. But it would still be a few minutes. He lets out a deep sigh of relief. He could never forgive himself for waiting so long - how long, actually? three hours? - only to nod off and miss you. No. Eddie would stay awake and wait for you and bring you home to him and his dad. Just like he secretly made it his mission after hearing how bad you've been lately. His heart hurts to see you like that and he'd be damned if he didn't try to give you at least a little relief from the weight of the world weighing on your shoulders. So he rubs his tired eyes and switches to the next song on his mixtape. It's Ozzy, and it makes him smile because he knows how much you adore him.

And in fact, it only takes a few more minutes for you to step through the door of your workplace. Slumped posture. Head lowered. Eyes glistening with unshed tears. Your feet hurt with every step, yet somehow they carry you on. They always do. But you are tired, more than tired. And again, it stabs Eddie right in the heart when he sees you like this. He hates it. He hates that the people at your job make you work so much overtime. He hates that uni has such a huge workload. He hates the way you look at him lately - doubt, fear, exhaustion. Eddie knows why you're doing all this, that you actually like your job and that your major is your passion. But he wishes things were easier for you. That he could take away your burdens and do more for you. And that you could see yourself the way he and Uncle Wayne see you. With nothing but pride, adoration and love.

As soon as you come in sight of his van, Eddie grabs the blankets that he put on the passenger seat and jumps out of the car. At first he tries to wave at you, but when you don't see him right away, he calls your name. And that makes you look up almost immediately, his voice has that effect on you. Your eyes widen with surprise and a small smile makes your lips curl upward. Just the sight of him gives you a boost of serotonin and makes you forget your aching feet as you almost run to him. You missed him. So much. So much that you can't hold back a little sob. But he is with you now. Finally. You feel how he first wraps the blankets and then his arms around you, holding you safe and secure. You press your face against his chest and take a deep breath, breathing in his distinctive scent that smelled like home. None of you care about the people who give you curious and sometimes disapproving looks. What do they know about love?

"Eddie, I..." You look up at him. Your voice sounds weak. Your head feels like it's stuffed with cotton as you try to find the right words to express how endlessly grateful you are to him. That he is here for you, that he never leaves you alone. You cry and it is okay. It is okay to let feelings flow.

Eddie hushes you and wipes away your tears with the rough but soft pad of his thumb. His other hand soothingly moves up and down your back. He looks at you and his big brown eyes are so full of love and worry that it makes your own heart squeeze in your chest. "You don't have to say anything, sweet thing. I understand. Please just let me help you, 'kay?"

You rub your wet, tired eyes and nod. Then you lean closer and kiss his cheek, something that makes Eddie chuckle and grin broadly. He opens the passenger door and picks you up to sit you down on the seat, buckling you in. "Your coachman will now take you to your castle, m'lady."

It's the first time in so long that Eddie hears you giggling - he missed it so much - and it makes him feel bats fluttering in his stomach. He strokes your cheek before he jogs to the other side of the van and he finally plops down behind the wheel. Eddie's presence and Ozzy's voice slowly calm you down. You blink at him tiredly and put a hand on his thigh, making him smile as he drives through the streets at a slightly less breakneck speed than usual. It takes a while for you to reach the Munson trailer, so you allow yourself to close your eyes and rest. You know you are safe with Eddie. Even if you sometimes feel too small for the world, you are never alone. Eddie and Uncle Wayne are there for you when you need them. Always. Every step of the way, no matter how difficult the way may be. Because they are nothing but proud of you. They love you so much.

#feeling a bit insecure about my writings again #but anyway #personalized piece #gifts for friends #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

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galacticgraffiti · 2 years

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✿ Baati’gar ✿

Wordcount: ~800

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: slightly ill!reader, Wolffe taking care of you, some mildly lewd comments and innuendos, mostly just so much fluff

I am dedicating this ficlet to my beloved @pinkiemme who deserves the world and so much more. Love you babes 🥺❤️‍🔥

.•°°•. ✿ .•°°•.✿ .•°°•.✿ .•°°•.

Wolffe’s nose nudges yours.

“You awake, pretty girl?”

“No,” you groan and pull the blanket up. “Everything hurts.”

Wolffe grunts, placing one hand on your forehead.

“You’re hot,” he states. You snort and let the blanket sink down a bit to wiggle your eyebrows.

“Aren’t I always?”

Wolffe rolls his eyes.

“No joking about you being sick, you won’t distract me. You caught something.”

You roll to your side, groaning quietly when your aching joints refuse to cooperate. Wolffe’s large hands settle on your shoulders.

“Nuh-uh, you stay right where you are,” he commands.

“Yes Sir,” you mumble, earning an exasperated sigh from Wolffe. You chuckle quietly, then suppress a hiss when your head starts pounding. Wolffe, of course, hears you anyways.

“What is it, cyar’ika?” His face is carved in stone, but the worry in his voice impossible to overhear if you know him.

“My head hurts,” you murmur. Wolffe nods matter-of-factly, and swings his legs off the bed.

“Stay right there, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You try to protest weakly, but there is no force behind you words.

“I won’t hear it,” Wolffe calls over his shoulder as he rummages through the medkit in the fresher. “You’re sick, cyar’ika. You deserve to be taken care of.”

“‘s not your job,” you grumble, pressing your thumbs into your eye sockets to stop your head from pounding so hard you can barely breathe.

“Not my job, no,” Wolffe murmur. You flinch, you didn’t hear him come up to your side. A cold pack is placed on your forehead and you sigh in relief. Wolffe clicks his tongue. “Not my job. But my responsibility, sweetheart. And I want it to be. Let me take care of you.”

His voice is unexpectedly soft, and when you open your eyes to look up at him, you melt at the expression on his face. Instead of protesting more, you simply hum, and close your eyes again. Wolffe feeds you some bacta, and laughs at the faces you make at the stale taste. He makes tea for you, feeds you some porridge, he lets you lay on him with your head in his lap and gently massages your scalp until your headache is gone entirely.

You sigh and relax into him, falling asleep more than once. When you wake up, he is always still there, quietly holding you.

The day passes like this, quiet and content. You watch holo vids together, although you sleep through half of them. Wolffe makes broth - an excellent choice since it is the only thing he has the skills to cook - and lets you sleep and sleep and sleep. You fall asleep to his voice quietly humming a faint melody, a song you have never heard before but that bears the universal comfort of a lullaby in its tune.

When you truly wake up for the first time, it is already dark outside, Wolffe asleep beside you with a datapad on his chest. You pull yourself up to kiss his cheek, and he stirs under your touch.

“You feeling better, sweet girl?” His voice is rough with sleep. You smile softly at him.

“Mhm, all better. Thanks to you,” you kiss his cheek again. “My hero.”

Wolffe grumbles something under his breath, but you swear you can feel the flush in his cheeks against yours.

“I feel disgusting,” you complain eventually. “I’m gonna take a bath, I think.”

“Hmm,” Wolffe hums, his hand slipping around your waist and squeezing gently. “Want me to come with you?”

“What exactly are you implying, Commander?” you smirk at the insinuation. Wolffe’s hands slip down and down, pinching your thigh before settling on the swell of your ass.

“I’m implying whatever you feel up for, pretty girl. Let’s not overdo it, though. I’ll get into the tub with you if that’s… something you want.”

“Hm-hm,” you sigh. “That sounds perfect.”

“Good.” Wolffe groans when he gets up, but shushes you when you inquire concernedly. “My leg fell asleep is all. Come on, sweetheart.”

Strong arms wrap around you and lift you up bridal style. Wolffe carries you to the fresher, letting you cling to him until the tub is filled up. You moan when you slip into the warm water, and smile up at him, tugging at his hand.

“Come on in, baby.”

Wolffe snorts at the pet name, but he holds his tongue, quickly divesting himself and sliding into the tub behind you. Thick thighs wrap around you as he sighs in deep contentment.

“Thank you,” you whisper into the quiet room. Wolffe pressed his lips into your hair.

“Ba’gedet’ye, ner kar’ta.”

.•°°•. ✿ .•°°•.✿ .•°°•.✿ .•°°•.

Baati’gar - (roughly) Caring for you

Ba’gedet’ye, ner kar’ta - You are welcome, sweetheart.

Taggies for some moots 🥰

@baba-fett @cyarbika @thebitchformerlyknownaskenobi @twistedstitcher27 @rexxdjarin @rain-on-kamino @purgetrooperfox @rowansparrow @maybege @fett-djarin @ashotofspotchka @thefact0rygirl @rescuethewretched @clonecyare @tenderclio @maygalodon @spaceydragons @equalityforcats @solidago-sempervirens @rexscyarika @damerondala @shadesofshatteredblue @nahoney22 @ulchabhangorm

#commander wolffe #fluff #wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #galawrites #gifts for friends

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