#and are both starved of human connection and warm touch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xcherryerim · 12 days

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A Helping Hand

Touch starved Mike x gn!reader | wc: 2.4k

“It will take a while for the scars in my heart to heal, that’s what I believed. At some point, I am in your embrace. You touch my heart baby” — Touch by Miss A

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18 ONLY

In the warm lit bathroom, illuminated only by a single soft glow of the cheap lightbulb, Mike sat on a plastic chair, his broken leg propped up on a stack of towels. The lukewarm water cascaded over his body, mingling with the salty tears that traced down his pale cheeks.

His eyes, red-rimmed and glistening, pleaded with yours as he whispered, "Please touch me."

For the past few weeks, you'd been there for Mike whenever he needed you. He was once a self-sufficient man who refused help from others, but now that his leg was momentarily immobilized, he found himself at the mercy of those around him. His job not compensating for his leave, coupled with the overwhelming weight of daily struggles, had left him feeling trapped and helpless.

The realization that his life had spiraled out of control weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was one thing to acknowledge the despair, but quite another to confront it head-on with nothing but time on his hands. In this cramped bathroom, surrounded by tiled walls, he felt even smaller, more isolated than ever.

With tenderness and care, you stepped into the shower stall, succumbing to the task of helping Mike bathe despite the challenges posed by his injured leg. As the warm water poured down upon both of you, you began to wash his hair with the specialized shampoo and conditioner, working the suds through his locks with gentle precision.

When you moved onto his back, your fingertips brushed over his tense muscles, tracing the web of pain etched into his skin. Each stroke, each caress seemed to pull at the threads of his empty heart, finally, he couldn't contain it any longer when you stood in front of him, trying to wash his neck and chest. His fragile facade cracked as tears formed into his honey soulless eyes.

Looking at his reddened eyes and the sniffling sounds emanating from his nose, concern washed over you. "Mike, are you alright?" you inquired, worry lacing your words.

"Please touch me," he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just… touch me. Please."

Your heart ached for him, seeing him like this - broken, vulnerable, and begging for human connection. His erection strained against the fabric of his shorts, an unmistakable sign of his need for intimacy.

“I know I'm asking too much, I know I've been a burden with all the favors you've done for me these past few days, but I just—" Mike hesitated, his voice breaking as he struggled to find the right words.

His admission hung in the air between you, thick with guilt and the weight of his burgeoning dependency on your kindness.

With a deep, shuddering breath, he continued, "I just can't take this loneliness any longer."

His confession struck you like a punch to the gut, his vulnerability laying bare the emotional toll his situation had taken on him. You could see the fear lurking in his eyes, the desperate plea for understanding and support. And though a part of you yearned to provide the comfort he sought, you also knew that giving in would only complicate matters further.

Instead, you opted for a different approach, seeking to ease his pain in words rather than touch.

"Mike, I understand how hard this must be for you," you said softly. "But you're not alone, and we'll get through it together. I promise."

Your hand lingered on his shoulder, a tentative gesture of solidarity, offering the smallest measure of comfort without breaching the boundaries of your friendship.

Despite the distance you maintained, you could feel the tension in his frame, the unraveling of his composure under the strain of his emotions.

"You don't find me attractive?" he asked, his voice strained as if the very thought pained him. Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill over as he searched your face for answers. "I... I didn't mean to push you, I just..."

Swallowing hard, you replied softly, "It's not that, Mike. It's just... your request would change things between us. Our friendship would never be the same."

Defeat washed over his features, and he shifted his gaze downward, fixating on his length before quickly looking away in embarrassment. "I just want to feel wanted, desired, useful to someone... anything..." he whispered, the depth of his anguish echoing in every word.

"It could be just once," Mike suggested, grasping at any sliver of hope he could find. His hopeful eyes locked onto yours, their pleading depths reflecting the faint light from the bathroom fixture.

His grip on your hand tightened, a silent prayer that you'd consider his desperate proposal. The air grew heavier with his unspoken desires, the weight of his needs bearing down upon both of you in the confined space.

“Our secret.”

You stood there, torn between compassion and conviction, struggling to reconcile the gravity of the situation. It was impossible to ignore the sincerity in his gaze, the raw need for human connection that seemed to emanate from him. Yet, you couldn't shake the sense that giving in would irreparably alter the course of your relationship.

Finally, you managed to find your voice, your tone heavy with uncertainty as you answered, "Mike, I don't think it's a good idea. This isn't something we can undo or ignore later.” Uncertainty lacing your words.

But his grasp on your hand tightened, his pleading gaze never wavering. "I don't want to ignore it. I want you, I truly do. Please, just do this for me." His fingers trailed along your palm, his touch lingering on your skin as he guided it towards his trembling form. When his hand paused at his pelvis, you felt the heat radiating from him, a testament to the turmoil within.

Staring into your eyes, he implored you once more, his voice quivering with the weight of his longing. You could see the torment reflected in his pupils, the raw honesty of his need. And yet, despite the yearning, you knew that giving in would be crossing a line neither of you could return from.

Yet you found yourself drawn to the sight before you: his waterlogged body, the foggy atmosphere, and the haunting desperation in his eyes.

With a shaky breath, you gave in, nodding reluctantly in agreement with his plea. "But, this never happened," you insisted, attempting to impose some semblance of control over the situation.

Slowly, your hand descended to meet his base, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the dampness of the surroundings. Each nerve in your body screamed at you to stop, urging you to reconsider the implications of your actions. But the anguish in his eyes pulled you forward, forcing you to grapple with the reality of his suffering.

Biting your lip, you closed your eyes, swallowing hard as you began to move your hand, knowing full well that this moment would forever change the course of your lives. The steamy air seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the outcome of your decision as the two of you were in the shower, bound by a secret neither of you could escape.

Mike nodded numbly, a silent agreement between you both as he attempted to stifle the rising cries of pleasure. "Thank you," he whispered, his gratitude overshadowed by the raw emotion surging through him.

Watching your hand move delicately over him, he couldn't help but feel the intense mix of shame and ecstasy coursing through his veins.

You steeled yourself against the stirrings of guilt, focusing solely on the task at hand. The water continued to pour over you both, serving as a constant reminder of the fragility of your situation.

As Mike's breath hitched and his eyes rolled back in bliss, you found yourself lost in the dichotomy of his emotions: the gratitude, the shame, and the overwhelming need for connection.

You opened your eyes, catching sight of Mike biting down on his fist, a futile attempt to silence his cries of pleasure. A small, involuntary chuckle escaped you, the sound carrying a hint of tension.

“You can make sounds, it's okay," you reassured him, a tender smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Closing your eyes once more, you hoped that the vivid imagery of their current predicament wouldn't scar your memories.

But the sight of Mike's flushed skin, his eyes tight shut in ecstasy, and the pink length curved around your hand was enough to dispel any remaining reservations. To your surprise, your grip tightened around him, your movements becoming more assured, more passionate. The water continued to fall, oblivious to the shift in dynamics between you both.

"Fuck!" Mike groaned, gripping your wrist and urging you to increase your pace. His gratitude shone brightly in his eyes as he spoke. "Thank you."

Nodding in agreement, you positioned yourself between his legs, the steamy environment providing little privacy in this intimate encounter.

Mike's head shook slightly, his eyes cast downward in a display of vulnerability. "You don't have to do this, It's okay." His voice trembled, tinged with shyness.

A smirk played across your lips. "Be a good boy and take what I give you," you instructed playfully, wrapping your hand around him once more. Your tongue danced around his tip, drawing a startled whimper from him.

"I'll be a good boy! I'll be a good boy!" he cried out, his words punctuated by gasps of pleasure.

His moans filled the bathroom, a testament to the newfound intimacy that had consumed you.

As you continued, the boundaries between friends and lovers blurred, leaving no room for regret or hesitation. Every touch, every movement was driven by an unspoken understanding, born of necessity and longing.

This time, you engulfed him fully, relishing in the way his body shuddered under your touch. It seemed as if he teetered on the edge of release, his cries growing louder and more fervent.

His hand reached back, gently guiding your head to him, a combination of shyness and desperation etched in his expression. Over time, his grip tightened, urging you to accept more of him, hungry for the sensation.

Your heart raced, the consequences of your actions weighing heavily on your mind. But the hunger in his eyes, the pleading earnestness in his touch, made it difficult to resist.

"You take me so good..." Mike murmured, locking gazes with you as he succumbed further to his desire. His appreciation was palpable, the praise you offered striking a chord in his soul.

In response, you slowed your movements, meeting his eyes as you whispered, "And you feel so good in my mouth." The compliment sparked a blush and a small, grateful smile on his face. Praise – an elixir for his wounded heart.

The water continued to rain down on you both, rendering the bathroom a sacred chamber of vulnerable admissions and simmering passions. In this cramped space, the two of you were stripped bare, submerged in a maelstrom of shifting emotions and escalating pleasures. The boundary between friend and lover had vanished, replaced by a new territory where your instincts governed your actions.

Mike's breathing quickened, the anticipation of release building within him. And though you knew this moment was fraught with consequence, there was an undeniable pull toward the ecstasy that lay just beyond the horizon.

"Can I...?" Mike stammered, his voice trembling and hoarse. After collecting himself, he asked hesitantly, "Can I come on your face or, your body?"

"You're close?" you inquired, unable to hide the curiosity from your tone.

"Yeah, I couldn't last that long with you... you know," he admitted, flustered. Taking a deep breath, he hastily added, "Sorry, I wanted to last longer." Embarrassment colored his features, but his eyes beseeched you to understand.

Mike's apology lingered in the air, but you dismissed it with a gentle wave of your hand, recognizing the power of your connection. Despite the enormity of what was happening between you, the bond that once existed seemed to transform, adapting to the new landscape of emotions and desires.

His release drew near, every twitch and moan drawing you closer to the precipice. The water continued to pour, its relentless cadence echoing the intensity of the situation. And while the implications of your actions weighed heavily on your mind, the thrall of the present moment beckoned you, the two of you locked in an intricate dance of surrender and acceptance.

Finally, Mike released a strained cry, using the last of his strength to guide his release onto your face. It painted your skin, marking you with the evidence of his passion, only to be washed away by the endless stream of water. In that brief moment of shared ecstasy, the room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the outcome.

Then, without warning, Mike hauled you in for a kiss – a desperate, yearning embrace that had years of suppressed feelings woven into it. His lips pressed against yours, a testament to the depth of your connection. The water continued its steady descent, but you barely noticed as you were consumed by the weight of the moment.

As the echo of Mike's cry faded, you found yourselves frozen in the aftermath, clinging to each other like shipwrecked sailors finding solid ground. The reality of your actions bore down on you, a stark reminder of the journey you had just embarked upon. Yet amid the chaos, there was a strange sense of calm, the two of you buoyed by the shared experience that would forever bind you together.

Mike reached for the loofah hanging on the wall, extending it to you between gasps for air.

"You didn't do my back right," he panted, half-joking.

Rolling your eyes, you rose to your feet, a soft chuckle escaping you. "Asshole," you muttered, taking the loofah and moving behind him. As you carefully scrubbed his back, you couldn't help but study the contours, each mole a tiny piece of art etched onto his skin.

"We seriously need to find you a partner or a sneaky link," you sighed, the gravity of your recent exchange weighing heavily on your mind.

"Or maybe a friend with benefits?" Mike countered, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

You considered his suggestion briefly, a faint smile playing on your lips. "Maybe," you agreed, the idea hovering between laughter and contemplation.

The water continued to flow, washing away the remnants of your uncertainty and hesitation. The room felt charged with the knowledge of what had transpired, yet there was a strange comfort in the weight of it all. Your hands moved gently over his back, the loofah a buffer between the new reality and the old normalcy.

my dumbass forgot the taglist bro: @freak-accident419 @joshhutchersonsgf @valreanakuroo @cassiecasluciluce @jhutchismyl0verb0y

#wrote this in one sitting and didn’t even revise it sooo yk #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt angst #mike fnaf #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt smut #mike schmidt smut #mike schimdt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x gn!reader #mike schmidt x male reader #mike schmidt x fem!reader smut

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contentloadingandstuff · 7 months

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Jealousy Bits - Zhongli, Diluc & Alhaitham x Fem!Reader

A/N: It's my second time writing for Fem!Reader, so C&C is more than welcome! CW: Alhaitham might be a little OOC.

Zhongli

Jealousy is a foreign concept for Zhongli. For eons his mind was preoccupied with more important matters than petty insecurity. Centuries passed, and never once have you given him a reason to worry. But as time passed and Zhongli, along with you, stepped down from his position, he started connecting more with his human side. He experienced many things he never got the chance to as a god - including a certain kind of longing.

"I'm leaving, dear!" You look over the contents of your purse, making sure everything necessary is contained within. Your hand moves to rest on the doorknob, but you pick up the sound of steady footsteps.

Turning back towards the living room, you see Zhongli standing in the corridor, his eyes resting on you. "If I may ask, where are you going today?"

"I managed to convince Ganyu to have a proper meal at Wanmin Restaurant. Poor thing needs to quit starving herself, don't you think?"

Smiling slightly, he nods. "Yes, that would be good for her health. Ever since the… choking incident, Ganyu has never been the same."

You both chuckle. Zhongli crosses his arms over his chest.

"I shouldn't keep her waiting. You know how anxious she tends to be." Once again, you turn towards the door.

Something sparks in his mind. The mental image of you, laughing and smiling with somebody else while he is alone evokes a specific feeling, an itch that urges him to keep you in place, here, with him. Zhongli wants to stop you, and he stretches out his arm, but thinks better of it. You turn the key in the door, and the sensation comes back. He feels the need to act.

Zhongli clears his throat. "I… I am having tea when you return. If you'd care to join me."

When your gaze meets his amber eyes, he seems unsure, and looks down at the floor in unusual embarrassment. His arm drops back down to his side. You approach him with a smirk, resting your hand on his chest.

"Aw, is someone jealous?" A slight blush forms on his face at your gentle touch.

"Perhaps." He answers after a moment.

You slide your hand into his, and squeeze it gently. It's warm and bigger than yours, his gloves adding a pleasant texture. Zhongli looks back at you when you cup his cheek with your other hand.

"It's okay. We'll take a nice bath when I return, have tea, and then… we'll see where the evening leads us." You plant a featherlite kiss on his lips, and send him a smile before turning to leave.

Before you can open the door, he speaks again.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you as well, Morax."

Diluc

Diluc cares only for those strangers he absolutely must, but he keeps his loved ones close. Although he keeps a steady facade suggesting otherwise, he gets possessive at times - just as anybody else. Cool as he is, Diluc won’t stop himself from acting upon his feelings with his characteristic decisiveness.

His eyes skim over the paper in his hand. Thirty barrels, twenty-seven million Mora - everything seems in order. He grabs the pen and scribbles his signature. The man thanks him and leaves shortly. Diluc sighs and rubs his temple.

It was supposed to be your night out. Just some casual drinks, grape juice for him and some light alcohol for you to finish off the work week. Despite explicitly stating that he is off-work, the recent delivery of Harra Fruit extract decided to arrive at that exact moment. With who the other party was, letting one of the staff handle him would be bad for his image. Begrudgingly, Diluc welcomed the merchant and finished the deal. Although he lost an hour or so, the evening was still salvageable.

The noble turns back from the loading bay towards the Angel’s Share back door, and pushes it open. His eyes see the familiar scene of many men and women enjoying their evening to the tune of a mediocre ballad, sounding out from the small stage. The notes are fine, but the occasional mishap doesn’t go unheard by his sensitive ears. Despite that, the tavern goers seem to pay no attention, possibly too drunk to notice. Still, if his memory serves him right, the last performer had far more lyrical talent.

He looks around the tables Venti frequents, but doesn’t find him there. Where did this rascal go-

“Y/N, do you perhaps wield the power of Anemo? Because your beauty blew me away!”

His eyes turn sharply towards the counter. The cyan-clad bard, his back leaning against the wood, smiles in satisfaction. In front of Diluc sees you, blushing slightly and giggling.

“That was… wow. Horrible.” You smirk. “But I’m sure you can do better.”

Diluc watches as Venti looks away, smiling, his mind rushing with ideas. He suddenly looks back at you, a wide smile on his lips. Barbatos clears his throat theatrically.

“It’s handy I have my library card on me, because I am totally checking you out!”

Both of you laugh. Diluc furrows his brows, and his heart starts beating faster. How can such crude humor make you laugh? You never laugh as hard at his jokes…

A small blush creeps up his face as he looks on, suddenly hyper-aware of his thoughts. He brushes the shame off. He is right - this evening was supposed to be “Diluc and Y/N talking and drinking” and not “Venti and Y/N talking and drinking while Diluc handles business”. There is no way the drunkard Archon steals your attention tonight.

“Two rounds, please! One for me, and one for the prettiest Windblume in this locale!” Venti says, raising two fingers.

Charles nods and reaches for the cups, but Diluc glares at him and shakes his head slightly. The bartender makes his understanding known and turns to a different client. The aristocrat looks around the tab record and quickly finds a small piece of paper, labeled with the bard’s name. Nine rounds… That would equal seven thousand three hundred Mora. Drawing another note, he writes down the numbers and places the paper inside a mug. He leaves the serving area and circles to approach you and Venti from the side.

The bard, too deep in his flirty conversation, fails to notice his approach. With a fairly loud sound, Diluc puts down the mug right next to Venti. His aqua eyes dart straight towards the tycoon.

“Oh! Hello master Diluc! How is the evening going?” The innocent tone that reaches Diluc’s ears annoys him even further.

“You ordered two drinks, I believe.” He walks in front of Venti, arms now crossed over his chest. “You will get them upon paying for the nine so far. If you don’t, I will ask you to leave. You’ve drunk enough.”

The mug is picked up, and Venti draws the paper. Upon looking at the sum, he smirks and puts the utensil down. “Why, of course! Let me get my coin pouch really quick.”

After patting his sides and drawing the leather container with a small Aha!, Venti peeks inside, and his confident smile turns into an awkward one. He chuckles.

“It seems that I forgot most of my Mora tonight, how unfortunate, truly! Can I just… add it to my account?” Venti looks at Diluc with big, puppy eyes. The man scuffs, unmoved.

“The one counting three hundred thousand Mora? Sure. If you pay it up now, that is. Do you have the money?”

The bard smiles nervously. “Ehe~” He turns to you. ‘My oh my! Look how late it is! Sleep is important, miss Y/N, and so I will rest now. Goodnight~”

Venti evacuates with practiced ease, Diluc’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. You turn to look at Diluc.

“Does he really drink this much…?” You ask, feeling a bit awkward after witnessing their interaction.

Your lover shrugs, and sits down on Venti’s place. He turns to you, a confident smile gracing his lips.

“Well, I’m here. What about your other two wishes?”

You smile and chuckle at his unexpected goofiness, covering your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing out loud. Diluc swears it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard from you.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham holds most strangers in a neutral regard. Their squabbles, bold flirts and personal drama doesn't interest him, and as such rarely anything can get him possessive and needy. Someone flirts with you? You can handle things on your own. Spending less time with him? No matter, you have things to get done as well. Talking to another man? If he is nothing more than a coworker or a friend, it's none of his business. Despite this solid and logical reasoning, Alhaitham assumed he would be jealous at some point - just in case. Yet he expected a human to be the cause, and not… an animal.

A cat, to be precise.

It all started when, coming home from shopping, the two of you were approached by a stray. Alhaitham recalls the unfortunate creature resembled a wet, rotten rag more than an actual feline. It started meowing at you while rubbing its filthy face on your leg. Instead of repulsion, however, you felt pity for the animal. After a good five minutes of pressure and puppy eyes, Alhaitham agreed to take the cat in. On the condition that you would take responsibility and care for it, of course.

After being taken to Amurta veterinarians, who cleaned, bandaged and prescribed the right medication to the poor animal, it started resembling an actual cat. When the researchers confirmed that the cat would be fine, it was given a name, one that stuck in his mind ever since.

Alibaba.

Or Ali for short.

It was just as he expected, and true to what you promised. You fed the cat, cleaned his litter box, gave him medicine, played with and groomed him. Over time, Alibaba returned to his former glory. His fur grew back, now long and lustrous. It was mostly white, with light brown patches near his paws, tail, ears and mouth, perfectly complimenting his deep blue eyes. Alibaba soon got plump and lazy, which you found greatly adorable. He was an obedient cat with a loud purr and a gentleman's meow that stole more and more of your heart each time.

Alhaitham didn't pay much attention to your new pet. That is, he didn't until you started calling the cat names. It's normal, he knows that. That’s just what humans do with pets. But something about you calling Ali a “handsome boy” and a “gentleman” doesn't sit right with him. He gets those compliments on occasion, but Alibaba gets it daily for just existing…

He couldn't believe he was getting jealous over an animal. Just when he pushed the thought away, the creature already noticed his feelings. It started running away from Alhaitham, and moving away when he tried to pet it. Ali didn't even eat the food and treats he provided, but dined on yours just fine. The cat didn't restrain itself from looking smugly at Alhaitham while being praised and showered in affection by you, seemingly mocking your boyfriend.

The whole situation was silly, and he knew it. It was only right for him to resolve his jealousy in an equally amusing way.

One day, after returning from work, you were greeted by Alibaba, just as per usual. You went to put your things down on the table, the cat following your actions by jumping up on the furniture. It meowed, rubbing its face against your hand. You smile.

"Who's a handsome boy?" Alibaba meows in response. "That's right! You are!"

You move to the fridge, and grab a bag of cat food. The animal rubs its body all over your shins as you pour the food. After leaving Ali, absolutely inhaling the contents of his bowl, you go to the bedroom. You open the door and freeze.

On the bed, resting on his side, is the shirtless Alhaitham. The sight of his chiseled chest fills your eyes, and a small blush of surprise heats up your cheeks.

For a solid minute or so, you stand there, unsure of how to react to this unusual situation. Alhaitham looks at you with a slight smug.

"Am I a handsome boy as well?"

Thanks for reading!

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mishwanders · 2 years

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Chapter Six [Wesker]: Ce N’est Rien

Pairing: Albert Wesker x GN!Cannibal Reader

Warnings: brief mention of the murder of S.T.A.R.S.

Summary: Wesker sends an update to Birkin. You keep running in his mind.

Read On AO3 [ X ]

A few days had passed since your arrival into Wesker’s home, and things were improving quickly. The introduction of the muzzle was a great help to both of your efforts to getting you used to being around him, helping you with your control. He kept you by his side as much as possible and you stayed close to him, so much that he wasn’t sure your hands had left his body during those periods. He didn’t know if you found it to be comforting or just another way to immerse and desensitize, but he didn’t complain.

Right now he had a moment away from you, sitting in front of his large mahogany desk, under the warm and dim light of the lamp, preparing a message about your conditions and improvements to Birkin. It was interesting to see how far you’ve come along, detailed in the words on the screen. He felt hopeful, maybe even proud of you and your efforts, knowing that the two of you were making another step towards the goal: getting you into S.T.A.R.S.

Once you were able to have full control of yourself, getting you inside the building would be no problem. What had been plaguing his mind though, was how the rest of the team was going to react to it. He knew that most of them would be none the wiser, not batting an eye to him having an assistant. The only one who would, would most likely be Enrico, the Bravo team captain or maybe even Jill Valentine. She didn't show it often, but he knew she was the type to watch a person’s every move, and he knew she’d be watching yours.

It didn’t matter though, as long as you both played your parts, everything should go smoothly.

He let out a sigh, reclining back in his black leather office chair, letting his mind sit before he finally hit send. He couldn’t keep his mind from wandering back the other day, when you pushed him onto the sofa, getting into his lap, and wrapping your arms around him. He thought about how you had your chest pressed against his, how he was able to feel your heartbeat, the gentle movement of your breath on his skin. It took him by surprise. He wondered why this of all things was the way that you chose to immerse yourself, instead of hesitating, like you did for everything else. You jumped head first into it as if you weren’t afraid of the danger you possessed to him, which had been unlike everything else you’d done up until this point.

So what changed?

Was it the fact that he gave you permission? Allowing you the room to try without fear of disapproval? He wondered if you were starved for attention, for a human connection that could only be provided through the means of touch. It wouldn’t be that hard to guess, considering where you’d been all this time before him - locked away behind glass, floating in a vat of liquid, lost to the world of your own mind. Did you consider him to be the thing that kept you grounded amidst the storm he knew was raging in your body?

He shook his head, trying to get these new thoughts about you out. At the very least, he understood how you felt. Being a product of Spencer’s madness had its way of isolating people. Even he was a victim of that.

Maybe you two were both starved for a connection that neither had been able to get - until now.

Wesker took a look at the clock, seeing how late it was now. He hit send on the message and turned off the computer and the lights to the office, shutting and locking the door behind him. When he walked into the living room he saw you curled up on the couch with a book in hand. He could see that you were reading The Plague by Albert Camus and were making your way through it quickly. He walked over to the couch, placing his hand down on the leather armrest close to your head, gaining your attention from the book. You looked up at him with a gentle smile, and for a second he’d forgotten the danger you posed.

“I didn’t know you could read.” He commented

Your smile fell from your face, eyes now glaring up at him.

“I may be a monster, but I’m not illiterate.” You replied, annoyed at him.

He moved around to the other side, sitting down next to you and placing his hand on your leg.

“Well that makes two of us.”

You sat up and looked at him in confusion.

“What do you mean? Do you think of yourself as a monster?”

“Considering everything that has happened, do you not?” He asked in return

He could see the gears turning in your head, contemplating his question before you finally replied.

“I guess I never thought of you that way before. Monsters have always been the ones that act like me, the ones who can’t control themselves. You’re just too… perfect to be a monster.”

He chuckled at your response. He’d been called perfect before by others, but not in the way that you had. You looked at him, confused again.

“What is it? Did I say something stupid?” You asked

“It’s nothing.” He said, “It’s just I’ve never been described in that manner before. Besides, perfection has nothing to do with whether you’re a monster or not. If anything, it’s the ones who can pretend to be perfect that are the ones to watch out for the most. They’re the ones lying in wait for the most opportune moment to strike.”

“Just like you?” You asked

He smiled.

“Just like me.”

“I guess that does make more sense.”You replied, “But I still don’t see you as a monster.”

He raised his eyebrow at that statement. Now you’d really piqued his interest.

“Then how do you see me?” He asked

“A chance.” You said plainly, “The one who can open the doors that need to be unlocked so I can get what I want.”

“So you see me as nothing but merely a tool?”

“Why not? You also see me as that, right? Just another experiment to get what you want. Hell, you want me to kill your whole cop team for you when the moment is right. Were you expecting anything different from me?”

“I guess not.” He stated, “But I find it intriguing that we think alike regardless.”

You smiled, gently shaking your head.

“We’re both incredibly fucked up.”

“Fucked up or two people merely trying to get what they deserve?”

“Maybe both.” You replied, “They're not mutually exclusive of the other. Which has me wondering, what do you think you deserve? You’re in positions of power already, living what most would consider a perfect life. What more could you want?”

He moved his hand off of your leg, folding his arms over his chest as he looked forward at the bookshelf. He wasn’t expecting that sort of question from you, but he answered truthfully.

“Most people see this life as perfection, but they forget that it can easily be a cage. I’ve spent my entire life being molded to perfection, and I want a chance to create a life that is my own, one that can better the future.”

“And you think this experiment can do that?” You asked

“Yes, I do.” He replied, looking back at you now. “I think it could help many people in the future. The sacrifices made now can be used to make sure others can be saved.”

He could see you mulling over his words in your mind, chewing on them like food.

“Do you not agree?” He asked

“I’ve just never looked at it that way. To be honest, I didn’t give a shit about what happened after all of this was done, so long as I was safe in the end.” You replied

“So safety is what matters most to you?”

“Who does it not matter to? I’ve been living in survival for so long, the very thought of having the chance not to just sounds… good.”

He nodded, understanding your feelings. Again, he’d seen everything he could about your files, knowing what James had put you through. You fought for your right to live, and he admired that of you.

“I guess you're right about that.” He said, “Regardless, it’s getting late.”

He watched you place the bookmark in between the pages, putting the book back on the shelf. He began to walk towards the stairs, making it halfway up before he turned around and noticed your confused face. He waved you up, encouraging you to follow.

“Come on. I think you deserve a night off of the concrete floor for once, don’t you?”

He noticed you didn’t hesitate after that, following him all the way into the bedroom. He moved the covers and you crawled in beside him, still watching him with curiosity. He laid back, chuckling at you.

“Are you surprised?” He asked

“Very.” You replied, “Why now?”

“You’ve gained my trust.” He said, closing his eyes. “I know you’re not going to hurt me.”

He felt you begin to move, curling up beside him. He turned to face you, wrapping his arm around your body and pulling you in close. He could feel your heartbeat racing again, feel your breath dancing on his skin. He knew you were trying to keep your composure, and he trusted that you could, knowing that you were in complete control. He stayed awake long enough for you to finally drift away into sleep, feeling your body melting into his. He wondered how long it had been since you’ve slept in a proper bed, had someone to hold you at night, just like this. He also began to realize how long it had been for him since he was last in this position, and even then it was never as intimate as this moment felt. The two of you were starved for connection that had been forcefully kept from the other.

And tonight, you could at least relish in the knowledge that you both had each other.

Chapter Five: Casualty

Chapter Seven: Sensitive

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thekrows-nest · 5 months

Note

Huge wall of speculation incoming.

I have no idea if the OG! - Vamp! connection hinting at the mantra relates to stuff I’ve guessed at but hasn’t been publicly confirmed, or if it’s stuff that even I haven’t touched on.

Let’s see… let’s first go over what I do know.

The hunger is obvious.

OG Krow is notoriously food insecure and that’s where his organ harvesting side hustle comes in. His thirst for fluids… if you know you know. He’s also metaphorically ‘empty’ because he’s been so emotionally neglected and lonely. Also his job and the dog eat dog survival growing up may have desensitised him to a lot of emotions like guilt, empathy (for those who give a reason) or fear.

As well as being a really striking visual it makes sense with all of this for Vampire Krow to have a gaping void at his core, a ravening hunger and thirst, an empty belly and no heart. Traditional vetala also prefer to feed on intestines so there’s that too.

OG Krow is an artist, and creativity is his entire drive outside Dove. (It could be argued that as a muse who broke his art block, Dove is even an extension of that.) Maybe there is some of that remaining.

OG Krow loves music and has sensitive hearing.

OG Krow is clever and sneaky, easily underestimated.

OG Krow loves birds. Perhaps that can be used in some way.

OG Krow was/is homeless, hypervigilant, stealthy, has wonky sleep schedule but great physical stamina.

Vampire Krow may be tethered to one place or haunting abandoned places, but if he may have travelled to America he may have been cursed to wander. Or just have free will like most vamps. Or is being forced to move around to avoid being killed, or endlessly chase more prey. I don’t know.

I do know he doesn’t have an opulent mansion and probably doesn’t have a safe secure resting place. Vampire Krow doesn’t tire because he has nowhere safe to rest with other monsters hunting him and is always seeking the next meal. He can possibly be active night or day but might use stealth/night for easy meals if he still has enough sanity to not just charge in.

OG Krow is Bengali/Indian.

In the subcontinent it would reallllly suck for him if he was weak to the sun. Or garlic. Or superstition. Too easy.

You know what? Both Krows have freckles and OG Krow curls up in bed to stay warm (maybe that’s just his substandard accommodation). I headcanon that if Vampire Krow ever gets a moment of peace or if prey is unavailable he's sitting in the sun to get nice and dark or just not caring about it, he can barely feel the warmth but imagines it’s still a source of energy (prana) and maybe it warms his cold dead body. He tries to remember it from when he was alive.

Maybe he even uproots and crushes cloves of garlic into his mouth because the strong acrid flavour is the only thing that still registers, or eats it like a starving human eats grass.

Whoaaa… In some religious contexts Hindus may consider the strong odor of onions and garlic ‘impure’ and avoid them during sacred occasions or religious rituals. It is veg food though.

However like OG Krow he may not have been allowed to learn about Hindu beliefs. Despite having memories of life, having Hindu roots and being traumatized by colonization, I still don’t know what garlic means for Vampire Krow either way. If it’s good or bad. I’m going to say it’s not effective because it’s so well known against European vampires.

I don’t think Vampire Krow gives a single crap about crosses, or (if OG Krow had the religious upbringing I have brought up as a Krack theory) they may just make him angrier. This is a fairly traditional weakness anyway.

Krack theory… OG Krow as orphan or in foster care?

Part of living Vampire Krow’s trauma under occupation may have been being orphaned or taken from his parents for colonisers to raise.

I don’t think this is it as OG Krow is Bengali/Indian but there were also cases of British men siring children and returning overseas, abandoning mother and child to fend for themselves. Not a great position to be in in poverty, war, and famine… may have led to the loss of his mother or their separation.

This doesn’t square with him being turned as an adult unless there’s some device like slowly aging or he was just reaching age. But abuse of children of colour in ‘children’s homes’ was rife, mortality was high and covered up, and children were the favourite prey of traditional vetala. I actually have no idea how or why he was turned.

So. This is all I have so far.

Blind unreasoning hunger (greed), (bloodlust?) or rage may lead Vampire Krow into traps or destruction/capture by another monster. (Either Vishnu or Krishna said downfall comes through greed, lust or rage.)

Appeals to any remaining humanity may be somewhat helpful.

He may be bribed with… liquids. Or mangoes?

Water from the Ganges seems to be the equivalent of holy water.

Offers to braid his hair did seemed to give him pause. And marriage proposals? In Indian culture it can be inauspicious to have open (untied) hair and the attention and sensation of braiding might remind him of life. Or lust.

Perhaps Vampire Krow may be mesmerized by art or beauty. Perhaps he can be distracted by looking at or making mehndi.

Maybe he can be enthralled by music or given pause by loud sounds.

Maybe you have to be wary of him pretending to be trapped or enthralled, only to suddenly lunge.

He may pause to look at released birds, or stop to collect strewn feathers.

You cannot sneak up on him or outrun him as you will be taken unaware or tire before he does. I believe the term is persistence predator.

Krow mayyyy be weak to intense cold? Or at least not really like it.

Turmeric is an auspicious spice and to be avoided during mourning so maybe he’s weak to that? He may still be given momentary pause by Hindu taboos from when he was alive? Assuming he was allowed to learn about it.

He may have trauma from life around young ones being taken or hurt, and might be persuaded to spare babies or children.

As to the specific mantra relevant to OG Krow, I still don’t know. There may have to be some more lore drops before I even have the faintest hunch.

But I did look for mantras for abandoned babies and came up with another chant to Narasimha - then randomly stumbled on something interesting.

There was once a deva named Hiranyakashipu who sought the boon of invulnerability against most weapons and causes of death, and to become so strong that only Lord Vishnu could kill him. Beast, deva and man could not kill him, he could be killed neither at night or in the day, not inside nor outside, on the earth or in the sky, by weapons either living nor nonliving…

Then one day Hiranyakasipu had a grievance and sought to kill Narasimha (the fourth avatar of Vishnu). Hiranyakasipu was then attacked by Narasimha under the perfect conditions to circumvent it all.

Narasimha took a form that was part human and part animal, attacked Hiranyakasipu at twilight, and did it at the threshold to his house. Narasimha laid the deva on his own thighs (off the ground but not in the sky) and killed him by disembowelment with his claws.

Probably not why Vampire Krow is gutted but an interesting coincidence all the same.

So I’m guessing that Krow has a number of conditions under which he can’t be killed or at least things that won’t work, and so there may have to be some creative thinking, riddling and loophole abuse.

Vishnu/Narasimha also does seem to be the one to pray to for defense from demons or evil spirits.

Took a bit to get to this because my god what a novel that is this ask. /pos

I appreciate that you make me much more of a genius in character design than I really am Krowspiracy. /silly I guess it's one of those things that even if the creator didn't consciously go into a design with certain thoughts, it still subconsciously bleeds (ha) through. Maybe I still am a genius?

...New canon for Vampire Krow. He absolutely lounges in the sun whenever he does have a moment's peace. He probably doesn't really warm up any more, or really feel it, but, it's a moment to try and reflect back on when he was alive. To try and desperately still cling to what humanity he has left.

And no garlic isn't really effective one way or the other to Vampire Krow. The main thing for him is I wanted to get away from "traditional" (western) vampire weaknesses for him. He's not western, so why would those weaknesses apply to him? So someone trying to eat garlic or something as a means to ward him off are in for a nasty shock.

Crosses might not be a magical weakness to him, but they could still infuriate him as a possible reminder of British colonization. So in one sense, is a weakness, but not like how you'd think for a vampire.

I do like the idea that enthralling him with things of beauty is a means to at least give him pause (or even confuse him with unexpected kindness). There's so many stories of terrible beasts being tamed or thwarted or whatever when showing compassion to them instead of aggression. And that is a neat idea to have with Vampire Krow.

As for the specific mantra... I'll give a slight hint. It is to a specific deity but likely not who most would think of. And it does have to do with OG Krow lore. However, that lore hasn't been publicly revealed yet. (For you though, Krowspiracy, as a treat, I'll say you did pretty much nail what the lore was, more or less, in one of your theories.)

Pretty much for a mortal to kill him would require specific conditions I think (or well... basically nuke him sdfnmbdlf). A fellow supernatural would have an easier time killing him, albeit that doesn't necessarily mean they can accomplish the task.

#the krow's nest #krow asked and answered #winndy talks #vampire krow #krow different skies (au's)#krowspiracy theories

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liliallowed · 4 months

Note

What does Crimson think of the dreemurr family?

What does Crimson think of Flowey?

the dreemurs? they relate to both in a weird way.

for Asriel the loss of innocence and their descent into absolute apathy.

for toriel the grief of not being able to experience something so distantly sweet in the past.

for Asgore doing what must be done... but being afraid to commit to it.

as for Chara?

well... they don't know what kind of life they lived on the surface... but hating humanity and abandoning their own reality was a way of them giving up on their own kind aswell.

all in all they're a tragic broken family. and it all came to a simple buttercup accident.

that's what this was. an accident. people weren't MEANT to remember. Asgore wasn't MEANT to get sick... Chara SHOULDN'T have died.

but it happens. the world isn't perfect.

they feel so connected to the dreemurs yet so much of a stranger unable to get close.

to physically feel toriels warm hug? it would bring our so many confusing emotions of a once touch starved abandoned soul that had all the control over fate but could never experience the present.

#dusttale player #the dreemurs #crimson

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cullenssapphic · 1 year

Text

“Merry Christmas, Esme”

This is set just before carlesme are married in December 1921 - Carlisle tries to recreate what he did for Edward’s first Christmas as a newborn with Esme however he is faced with a small dilemma when he finds mistletoe Esme has made whilst decorating

they are engaged but you know Carlisle and his touch starved self

please enjoy and reblog <3

Esme adored the snow. In her human life, she spent those snowy Decembers wrapped up in stifling fabrics, trying to appreciate its trancing beauty of white yet not daring to encounter the cool bite of its touch. Her new life helped her to appreciate its beauty wholly. She loved the new sensation of snowflakes hitting her unbothered skin, running barefoot amongst the ground and laying for hours, watching the haze fall softly.

It was at Carlisle’s eager suggestion Edward take Esme out hunting for the day. Edward was very much aware of Carlisle’s plans for the evening - his thoughts were loud with elation as he pictured what her reaction would be like - lost in the reverie of every possible outcome.

Esme had stepped outside leaving the two to talk alone whilst she waited for Edward. Carlisle spoke in his mind, the surprise was sacred.

‘Please Edward, I want this to be special,’ He wanted to carry on the tradition he had done for Edward - making sure their human experiences were maintained and unforgotten. Although, It was different for Esme; it felt more important, more intimate. She was his guiding light and he longed to follow, to make sure she shone brightly. Her happiness was his priority.

‘Take her out in the snow. Perhaps she should bring her sketchbook? I know she loves to draw that lake nearby the little creek you know the one with the irises.’ The boy couldn’t help but scoff a little, they were not married quite yet but he had noticed how absolutely entwined they were with one another. The little details that were so obvious, their thoughts mirrored with saccharine positivity, their faces both reacted in unison as if rehearsed. It was heart-warming - even for a vampire. “Alright.” he nodded shifting to the door.

‘Good lad, be back around five I should be done by then’ he gently patted his shoulder ‘and please, keep her safe’ his warning was sincere yet stern.

“Of course I wouldn’t want to spoil this for her.” a smirk tugged the corner of his mouth, remembering the time Carlisle had done this for him. He wisped upstairs grabbing Esme’s sketchbook and shook his head wryly as he went, meeting her outside to go on a much prolonged hunt.

Carlisle was overwrought - he needed this to be perfect. She deserved perfection. He shuffled through the boxes of tinsel, string and nitid ornaments when he noticed a separate box underneath he couldn’t recall from the prior years. This was Esme’s.

He lay the small box on his lap, pulling out a wooden sphere painted with elements of rich carmine and artichoke. It was decadent despite its simplicity. The words ‘Cullen’ with ‘C.E.E’ underneath painted delicately in her handwriting. Carlisle held it gently to his chest in a sentimental fashion and sighed. Once the tree was brought in, he placed it on one of the centre branches. perfect he smiled.

When he had strung up the fruit he searched for items to put on the fireplace. There was a small item wrapped in linen enlaced with a knotted string. Carlisle’s name had been painted on it and curiosity bested him. He unravelled it to reveal the fresh mistletoe leaves tied neatly with ribbon. Oh. She was planning her own surprise for him then. His smile beamed, Edward was right - they truly were connected.

It was a symbolic custom; one he knew would be important to her. Lucent berries and leaves rested in his palm ‘What should I do?’ contemplating if he should spoil her own surprise and replace it with his own, Carlisle was reluctant to suggest it to her. They had kissed many times over the course of their engagement but he was still timid with his affections. Besides, it was Esme who had kissed him first. He placed it to the side and struck a match. They would be back soon.

The smell of candle wax thickened as he lit each wick - Since Esme had arrived, their house felt homely and affable. The mellow tones sunken in their living room along with the seasonal attributes made him realise that perhaps for the first time he was apart of a family, his family.

“We’re back.” the door twisted open, Edward came in and Esme followed; her swaying caramel curls decorated with the snowy confetti from outside. Her golden eyes lit up as she took in the new surroundings and her mouth was perched open slightly in awestruck.

Their living room had been masked floor to ceiling in gaudy decor - dashed with blotches of aureate that if they were human, their eyes would irritate greatly. When Carlisle had decorated the inn at the harbour he and Edward shared in 1919, it was never more than a tree and a couple items for their bedside tables; this was far too excessive.

‘How ostentatious’ Edward thought to himself, amused by Carlisle’s desperate need to go overboard for the woman he loved.

“Merry Christmas, Esme.” Carlisle made his way towards her

“Oh Carlisle this is- it’s just wonderful, thank you.” she was now admiring the tree and noticed her ornament had been strung up along with the others.

She pointed to it “you weren’t supposed to see that yet you know.”

“Well you didn’t really hide it that well,” he joked “and besides it’s very beautiful.”

Her smile was coy, “Did you happen to find anything else?”

“As a matter of fact I found something rather intriguing.” he turned to the fireplace to retrieve her spoilt surprise.

“mhm go on.”

he grabbed the mistletoe, motioning it towards her with one eyebrow cocked upwards for an explanation.

“I was saving that for Christmas Day!”

“You made this yourself?”

Her eyes dropped to the floor in a shy humour “Well it’s quite easy you just tie it all together.”

“So you made me a Christmas present and I foolishly found it and now am flaunting it about everywhere.” he scoffed

“I made you two Christmas presents and I didn’t even get to see your reaction,” her playful tone dropped ever so slightly “Do you like them?”

“I love them, angel.” his heart would have burst if it could beat.

“I’m glad.”

“So about this mistletoe, what were you planning on asking me?”

“Well, you’re the one that found it so I think it is only fair you ask darling.” she prodded, Esme knew that he was still nervous with affection; one reason was he did not want to frighten her and the other was that he was alone for so long. The starved intimacy he had craved centuries for - it was all so new to him.

“Oh.” he muttered then flashing an equanimous smile “well then Miss Platt,”

“I’ll be Mrs Cullen soon.” she added

“Then, Mrs Cullen.. would you do me the honour of kissing me underneath the mistletoe.”

“Of course, my husband.” she teased, leaning forward as he held the mistletoe above their heads with his free hand.

Edward coughed sheepishly “And on that note i think I’ll head out and enjoy the weather a little longer.” he had stood watching them, unnoticed, their love was mesmerising to watch but he’d give them their privacy.

‘Poor lad’ Carlisle thought as he went out the door but soon returned his thoughts back to Esme.

She pulled him close, tugging his shirt slightly “you know Carlisle we don’t need this as an excuse to kiss.” She grabbed the mistletoe from his hand and they kissed sweetly, both cherishing the closeness of one another.

“Thank you for doing this.” She murmured, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Of course,” he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Again, Merry Christmas angel.”

“Merry Christmas, Carlisle.”

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #carlesme #twilight #fanfic #christmas time is carlesmes time to shine #carlisle says ‘lad’ because I say lad and we’re both british #also it’s the only reason he and Siobhan are friends #esme loves the snow because she’s one of those one with nature girlies and she paints the weather #I feel like she’d make handmade ornaments when she was a teacher and like 8 months pregnant #she’s a diy queen and carlisle can’t get enough #longer than anticipated because the writer in me took over #edward cullen #writing

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delving-verilly · 1 year

Text

Sparks - Astronauts

Sparks is a series of vignettes written under the influence of art.

They were the best of the best, which is why it all came as a shock. One of the last hopes is restoring the planetary 'factory setting'. Years of electromagnetic signals, abuse and pillaging of a planet will leave it in a state. The mindless unawareness through the choice of the populous wanting to ignore what they couldn't see. When they could see, it was too late.

Many things had started to create chaos within the planet's atmosphere. Global warming, the constant rain of space debris as celestial bodies decayed and connected with each other, sending literal rain of metal and junk down as more and more was pushed skyward to keep the people in the manner they'd become accustomed. Fast internet, information at fingertips and what was done with it. Nothing of any true meaning or depth. No integrity and living a life of existing, not experiencing.

When one of the largest celestial bodies had been identified and taken out a northern city, leaving millions dead and plenty in a 24-month Winter, something had to be done. A small group of rogue specialists had seen a way out. To bring down the satellites and junk from the sky. To prevent further advancement. A self-sacrifice of the most remarkable calibre to continue the human race and the planet's longevity. Pull apart the systems upon which the foundations of life had now become reliant.

Humanity was never meant to be comfortable. The smallest of joys in a day can be found in completing tasks that lead to our ongoing survival. We simply made ourselves comfortable while we waited for science to return with the answers for us to advance. Science has been shouting the answers for some time now, and too many have become too comfortable to listen. Listening would mean having to change, and change can be scary to people - especially if they are comfortable.

The two had been firm friends for many years, having grown up together at polar ends of the same town. One from poverty and struggle. Hardship and ostracised for his father's decisions and the small-minded community that fostered the apple never falling far from the tree. Every opportunity he had he fought tooth and nail for.

The other the only son of a wealthy, successful and well-connected couple. Carrying his own trauma of them never being around. Touch and affection starved, throwing himself into sports and seeking the validation he so craved from peers and those who would place a crown on his head at high school only to snatch it away given the first chance. Unlikely partners holding the planet in the palms of their hands.

Were they successful in their mission? That was yet to be seen. For there was only one of them left. The other falling victim to the debris, simply trying to clear the atmosphere and catching a snag in their vessel, they had to conduct an EVA (extravehicular activity). Only one could do it, the other having to remain inside. It was too high a risk to send both out when there was only the two of them.

They drew straws. There was no better way to do it as far as they were concerned they were equal in skill and treated one another as such. Neither of their lives were superior to the others.

Edward drew the short straw. He suited up and headed out. It seemed like an easy enough job. Just dislodge the debris caught in the exterior and prevent further damage. It was like a floating junkyard. The human race really had 'trashed' not only the planet but the entire vicinity it sat in. Swirling around the ethereal blue green orb were layers of metal, of reflective and dull surfaces, spikes and stilts, a myriad of different surfaces, logos and crap. Just crap. The piece lodged in the shell had a pay tv logo on it. Was it really worth it and did anyone down there on that planet have any idea. No.

The thing with space is there isn't gravity. When one object strikes another it will continue on its trajectory being propelled endlessly. Caught in an orbit of the planet, junk that has been struck by asteroids or other debris can get caught in a loop of propulsion, getting more momentum until it gets pulled down into the gravitational pull of the planet and into the atmosphere where it either burns up or crashes into the planet's population as it had been doing.

Out of nowhere, some of that spiralling debris caught Edward unaware. Steven hadn't even seen it coming with all the machinery on board. It was that small. That deadly. That fast. Cutting like bullets through his space suit. Through him. Straight through. It was over in an instant. Steve managed to retrieve the body as Eddie had followed protocol and was strapped to the exterior. That was the hardest EVA Steven had ever done in his life. They weren't successful. The very thing they were sent to combat destroyed the mission and took Edward's life. Steven had lost his best friend.

Edward was given a private ceremony. No airs and graces for a mission that was never supposed to happen because far too many people were making far too much money from the earth being in the state it was in. Steven tried to tell his story and was shut down by many governments. He will tell his story to whoever will listen to him to this day. If you can find him, ask him to tell it one more time.

#eddie munson astronaut #eddie munson #joe quinn #joseph quinn #steve harrington #edward munson #steven harrington #joe keery #steve harrington astronaut #space fiction #sci fi fic

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notadryseatinthehouse · 9 months

Text

Dystopian/post-apocalyptic romance? Too dark? Condoms have all expired probably and hormonal birth control is worth more than its weight in gold so I could see that being somewhat impractical. But danger around every corner? Desolate world and the only person you have to cling to during the cold nights is the wanderer-stranger you’ve been traveling and scavenging with for the past few weeks? Both of you have secrets you’re not willing to share because secrets are as valuable as birth control and trust is as rare as other people, not to mention the trauma (my god, the trauma). But maybe sex is okay, maybe sex isn’t what it used to be. Maybe the politics of sexual interactions are pointless now that nobody has a home to go to or a job to keep or anything to worry about really, other than getting from one day to the next.

Maybe you and your traveling companion have spent days only speaking when it’s needed, and maybe they’ve only told you their first name and you’re suspicious that they gave you a fake one, but that would be okay because you gave them a fake one too, but they’ve saved your life twice and you’ve saved theirs. Maybe at some point the two of you encounter a dog, some ragged, skinny thing that was clearly once loved, and you make eye contact with each other - and Jesus, is that the first time you’ve made eye contact? - and silently agree that despite your lean rations and waning supplies and the inherent danger of your travels, you can’t just leave this dog here, and it follows you.

And now it’s just the three of you, and the nights are getting colder, and you found a can of baked beans, the best find in days, and you catch yourself humming with happiness while you cook it over your tiny fire - small enough not to attract too much attention - and you notice your companion is smiling at you, but it could be a frown, you’re not sure because their eyes are right on you, and did you notice they were so green? There’s deep sadness there that’s in everyone’s eyes these days, but there’s also a yearning, not sexual necessarily, but emotional, and you get the sense that they’re glad you’re with them. So you start talking about loneliness - not yours or theirs but loneliness in general, maybe a study you read in the before times that found that even though all people experience and understand feelings of loneliness, everybody experiences it differently; it’s a connective tissue that is universally understood but is also heartbreakingly lonely in the experiencing of it. They listen, rapt, not saying anything, as if you are a deity delivering a prophecy, and when you ask them what they think, they simply nod and eat their beans, but something has shifted.

And that night they touch you for the first time as you huddle together under the single blanket you’ve been sharing for days now, and it’s not a sexual touch, just a gentle, tentative touch, a hand on a back or an arm, and you realize you’ve been starved for human contact and hadn’t noticed how badly it was affecting you, so you scoot a little closer and fall asleep in their arms, and it’s the first time you’ve been warm in as long as you can remember. When you wake up, you realize it was the first time since It Happened that you didn’t dream.

#romance books #romantasy #apocalyptic romance #post apocalypse romance #shit do I have to write this now?

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cruelprincae · 1 year

Text

@cursedbcrn sent from 🐝 * ― 𝑾𝑨𝑳𝑲 𝑫𝑶𝑾𝑵 𝑴𝑬𝑴𝑶𝑹𝒀 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑬.

💥 ― a memory you wish you’d forget.

His body hangs limp, supported by the chains that bind his hands which are connected to the ceiling through a metal plate. His legs are unable to support him anymore, only briefly brushing against the dirt ground and held standing by the unyielding force of the chains. It's been days since Balekin ordered a servant down in the Hollow Hall's dungeons, to bring him either fresh clothes or food, and Cardan can only assume that no one is coming any time soon. He figures as much, if the look of pure, raw fury that burnt into his eldest brother's face the last time he saw him was to be taken into any consideration ― which also happened to be the same day he was stripped bare of his shirt, lashes until his back was bleeding and sore and then chained in the dungeons, locked away from anyone and anything that could provide him with any sorts of aid.

Not that any of the humans in this estate would help him. They were glamoured to obey Balekin's every command, glamoured to happily do so, wearing a face that closely resembled that to a person sleep walking. They weren't conscious, they weren't present enough to comprehend Cardan's pleas even if he begged for it ― which he wouldn't. He is as stubborn as they come and if his brother decides that he wants to leave him to starve to death in those dehumanizing dungeons, then he will die with his chin held up high and with spite and hate written all over his sharp features.

Cardan wouldn't beg for help but that doesn't mean he would turn down a warm meal, a hot bath and a garafe of water right about now. Whilst pearls of sweat adorn his porcelain skin right beneath the golden circlet he wears under his black curls and run down his brow and cheek, his mouth feels dry, his tongue feels as if glued within his mouth and unable to even spit on the ground his brother must be walking on, on the ground above. He is both hot and cold; whereas he can see his breath ghosting out of his chapped lips, evidence enough of the winter outside, Cardan's body burns hot and the sweat, some new whilst some dry, feels icky across his torso and back. He figures he has a fever ― that's the only logical explanation as to the tricks his body and mind start to play on him.

He wonders if his friends care he's gone. He wonders if Jude noticed his absence. He wonders if her eyes search the crowd of the students in the palace for him.

The last thought is horrifying enough to jerk him awake. Black eyes, adored around the irises with a ring of gold, blink once, twice, pulling back to the reality just in time for the bolted door leading to the dungeons to open, revealing Balekin and the human creature he has associated with his pain, Margaret. With a curt jerk of his head, Margaret carries a tray filled to the brim with towels, water and other medicine that he's too out of touch with the present to notice and with shift moves, the glamoured human disappears behind him, where he's unable to track her movements.

He feels the scorching pain of something touching the lashing shaped injuries on his back and he knows that Margaret is tending to them. In contrast to the other times that Balekin has ordered her to beat him, these lashes were made severe due to the newly equipped iron ends in the whip used to punish him ― irons hurts the Folk, and he can't help but assume that Balekin had a particularly bright smile on his cruel face when he purchased that item. That, and the iron chains that currently bit into his wrists, the chains he could feel burning away on his skin. That, accompanied by the shift tapping with the clean towel on his back almost make Cardan wince, but he bites his tongue before any sound can come out, before his body can stiffen and jerk. He won't allow himself to appear small before Balekin's unblinking gaze. He won't allow himself to be weak.

Weakness is what got him in this place to begin with.

He assumes Margaret is finished tending to his wounds, for he can no longer feel the tapping of the towel on his back. For the first time since he has stepped into the dungeons, Balekin's black eyes leave those of Cardan to dart towards Margaret, whom he offers a curt nod. A weak frown plasters itself on the prince's face but before he can question it, a small gasp leaves his person as the chains give away and he finds himself kneeling before his eldest brother, tail and hands hanging limp by his body. Margaret joins his side soon after, but it is Balekin who speaks.

❛ Seven days and seven nights in the dungeons is a punishment fitting enough for the crime of you humiliating me and our House before the Court. ❜ Cardan remembers the day; He lost to Jude Duarte, a mortal General Madoc had taken under his wig after murdering her parents when she was little older than an infant. He had taught her the ways of the sword and the strategies of the war, which she had fully embraced, unlike himself. Cardan despises swordsplay; he hates taking lives. He is a firm believer that whatever a sword can do, a poisonous tongue can do better. A poisonous tongue can break a person far beyond that of a sword. ❛ You allowed yourself to be bested by a human. A nothing. What would father say if he was present to witness such a disgrace ? ❜

❛ I'm certain you're about to enlighten me, ❜ Cardan whispers, his voice hoarse with unuse.

❛ In his eyes, you're the disappointment he has entrusted me to fix. He expects me to make you a proper prince. If he were to witness your humiliation today, he would never favour me as the heir to the Blood Crown. He would think I'm a disappointment too. ❜ But of course, that's what it is all about. The Crown. Cardan can't help the barely there snort he makes, although he's certain that the way Balekin's eyes narrow upon his kneeling frame, he has definitely noticed. ❛ Your childish behaviour has embarassed both of us enough as it has. Yield, and I will allow you to return to your rooms. I will tend to your wounds, and I will offer you delicacies and water. Yield. ❜

But it's not Balekin's eyes he is staring at anymore. The black irises have given way to a pair of fierce, chestnut brown that stare down at him with such a fire that Cardan is surprised he hasn't burnt down to a grisp, turned into one of the bonfires the Lower Courts assemble during one of their monstrous revels. Long, brown strands rain down upon him like beach waves and, as if afraid that this wouldn't be enough to suffocate him, a hand ( with the tip of a ring finger missing ) reaches to grab around his throat and yank, until he's on his knees before her. The sword she holds reflects the moon light in her eyes as its tip is moved right underneath his chin. ❛ Yield, ❜ Jude hisses. Cardan can recognise the seething hate burning away in her voice. ❛ Surrender, or I'll tear you to shreds and I'll take down everything you love and hold dear with you. ❜

Better you experience the humiliation of being beaten by a creature who ought to be your inferior, Balekin's words ring in his eyes as he stares into Jude's eyes. And every time you think of how disgusting mortals are—with their pocked skin and their decaying teeth and their fragile, little minds—I want you to think of this moment, when you were lower than even that. And I want you to remember how you willingly submitted.

Oh my sweet nemesis, how I'm glad you've returned. ❛ I yield. ❜ Cardan breathes, closing his eyes. His voice is barely a whisper, drowning in everything that was Jude Duarte. ❛ By you, I am forever undone. ❜

The next time he opens his eyes, Jude is gone. In her place stands a rather taken aback Balekin, but the shock doesn't last long. In fact, Cardan's not sure he hasn't imagined it there. His face has turned unreadable, but he holds true to his promise and waves for Margaret to follow him. ❛ Take Prince Cardan back to his chambers. Bring him food and wine and anything else he desires. ❜

As Margarets helps him up and aids him upstairs, Cardan is still shaken by the ghost of those chestnut brown eyes. Eyes that he feels are still staring into his back as he carefully climbs the stairs to the upstair's parlor. Eyes he wishes to this day, that he can forget.

#cursedbcrn #( scribbles tba. )#idk what this is but it is something

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nightweeb92 · 5 months

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It's been a while since I last used Tumblr. Strangely I remember originally making an account to rant my personal struggles and the lessons that I've learned during.

As you may have come to know by my old posts, I'm very much a warm but neutral person that struggles socially, I was forced into a way of being a loner for a long period of time that it's all I really know ..and even though I carry it well, it still a struggle.

But, there's a side that was retained through it all to really be there for others when they need a shoulder, mostly because I didn't particularly have that myself when I needed it most ..there's this mentality when you're left alone for so long ..you crave a sort of warmth and you don't even know it because a part of you has been left discarded for so long you never realized that you need this too. Living a touch starved reality, the lack of both connection and affection does things to the way you think.

Affection and connection is an integral part of being human, we all need some sort of warmth in life to keep us going.

Being alone has its merit, but there are times when you think, I could really use a hug.

#personal

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killerskillercaptain · 3 years

Text

"Levi, my love"

pairing : Levi Ackerman x Reader

wc : 3 271

themes : Levi and you were married for a year, but he never let his walls down and you never got intimate with each other, until tonight.

warnings : MINORS DNI, light smut, comfort, hurt, slight!angst, lots of fluff to compensate.

a/n : i can't write smut for the life of me, this is the closest i can do.

also, in this fic, it's not all about the intercourse, enjoy.

It felt like warm butter with the intoxicating taste of honey. You were asleep when you felt his lips pull you out of your slumber.

The room was pitch dark

"Levi ?" You managed to breathe out

His only response was his lips searching back for yours, like a soul desperately in need for another.

His kiss was different, you instinctively thought as he cupped your face in a harsh gesture.

"Please, let me have you tonight" was all he said for a response.

You and Levi have been married for a year now, but have never had any form of real intimacy. You never had intercourse or even held each other like two married persons would and should, some chaste and thoughtful kisses would be handed to you occasionally but that was all of it. You suffered in silence. Levi did too. He wants to touch you, but nothing scares him more than letting his walls down and letting someone getting physically close to him.

Afraid of both of you discovering how needy he was for another human's attention.

You tried. You tried so many times. A light hand on his thigh in the mornings, a more determined and pressing one on his shoulder. Each time, it was the same, he would back off, he would go stiff and shift in the opposite direction. He was disgusted by you, he loved you. He even told you that. He married you for crying out loud, on his own will.

You knew Captain Levi was a touch starved man-and you were too-, but you didn't think he'd starve himself to death in your company, willingly.

His mother's love was a faint nostalgia

Kenny wasn't the paternal he needed, and blatantly left him wondering if he was ever enough and worthy of affection for decades, even though he did everything he was told to.

Everyone else feared him or admired him, both of these would be done from afar,

and then, there was you.

You kept trying and trying. Trying to reach out to him time after time until you almost gave up, almost. He was glad you didn't give up on him, and he was ready to show it to you tonight, he needed to.

Touch starved but this also made him touch repulsed, until this very night where the need grew bigger than his fear.

Tonight he came home overwhelmed. Not his usual self, he was overwhelmed, everything has been shit lately, nothing was working in the survey corps, everything was falling apart, the world grew more incomprehensible with each passing day, more enemies kept appearing unannounced, enemies, enemies everywhere.

Nothing made sense anymore

Until he realized, that you, you were the only one making sense, your presence, your devotion to him, you sticking by his side even though he has only shown you his bitter one, even though he denied you every access to him while it was your right as his wife.

Tonight, coming back to your quarters, he found it completely engulfed in the dark because you went to bed early, because you stopped waiting for him and giving it another try, because you stopped hoping for something to happen. He realized all too well that your attempts at making a connection physically wasn't only to make him vulnerable, it was also something you needed, it was also something that would make you feel loved and valued.

Tonight, he realized why touch exists and why humans need it, and he needed it tonight, more than anything.

With everything spiraling down at work and the future starting to look uncertain, you were the only thing grounding him to some sanity, and he felt sorry he understood this so late.

It was just a kiss, but it sent jolts of electricity down to your spine, pulling yourself apart from him, you asked him if he was okey, extremely concerned about this change of behavior, Levi wasn't the type of person to change this way, he wasn't a victim to his emotions, or that's what you thought.

But the Levi of tonight, decided to fall victim to his turmoil for you and for him, he decided to get drunk on his vulnerability and take you with him.

Crawling onto the bed and on top of you he made his way not only to your body but to your mind. Your head was spinning, you didn't know how to react to this new him, you didn't know what to expect, his gestures seemed to try and tell you not to bother and comprehend and were urging you to just feel, just be,

and so you did.

His mouth, hot and moist now from all the kisses exchanged, was a territory he never granted you access to, not in this way, and you decided it was your new favorite place to be. His hands traveling, mapping out your face, kneading your cheeks as he devoured your mouth again. He stopped for some seconds, unsure of what to do next, fixating on your glistering lips then on different parts of your body, your hands, your still covered chest, your stomach, your unveiled legs and your most intimate part.

Levi's slender fingers were floating over your navel and pubic bone, it was like a dream, he then dragged them over your breasts, his fingers only ever padding the thin fabric of your gown, he looked so unsure of where to touch, where it was okey to touch, where he needed to touch, you felt the ghosting feeling of his fingertips on your sensitive buds, this alone made you shivers, and you couldn't tell if it was the touch or this new side of him. His eyes looked right into yours in the dim light, a mesmerizing moonlight piercing through the darkness, the ethereal light painted hypnotizing blue hues in his eyes and you forgot how to breathe for a moment, letting everything about him take you in, the real thrill of tonight you thought, more than Levi deciding to take you, was you discovering your husband all over again.

You realized he was still hesitating so you grabbed his hand more forcefully than you intended to, and meshed it with one of your breasts, your move made you suddenly anxious, afraid he would pull his hand back but to your surprise, Levi started fondling the soft flesh as soon as he felt it, earning the sweetest whimper from you, making him froze for a second, assessing the new territory, then going back to giving you the attention you deserved. You were going to invite his other hand to do just as much when you noticed he was still wearing his pants with his belt and the rest of his straps. You managed to loosen up his belt and to wiggle him out of some of the straps while he was still massaging you before he landed you a hand, both of you not exchanging one single word.

By the time you heard the clicking and other familiar sounds of the equipment hitting the ground, you felt Levi's hair tickling your chest right before he took one of your nipples into hot mouth, over the fabric, kissing it diligently. It was strange, weird even, you felt his lips kissing and sucking the bud, a wet damp forming over the fabric but you could feel it as if he was touching your skin directly, mouth burning your skin alive. When his lips released your mount, the dampness made the air seem colder and you shivered again, the goosebumps now apparent.

You buried your palms in his silky locks, greasing his scalp with your determined fingers as you brought him back on your mouth, kissing him without restraint.

The amount of joy and gratitude of having your husband this close to you could not be worded. Having Levi, this focused on you was a blessing you could keep on counting with each one of his thrusts, each one of his breaths, each one of his groans. You didn't even care if he pleasured you, you just wanted him to pleasure himself, to know he could count on you to feel something, to release tension, to quench his thirst and whatever he was craving at this moment, you were just happy your bodies were able to meet your souls.

It hurt, you and Levi were each other's first right now, Levi could tell and so you did, but him trying to soothe you in the best way he could was all you needed.

Soon scratching nails and biting teeth shifted once more to seductive touches and affectionate gestures.

Deeper, deeper, deeper ! you thought shamelessly

You had no idea how much you were craving this until now. You knew you needed him, you didn't realize you craved him.

You craved him like you crave water in the desert,

The first drops after a long thirst,

The first bite after starvation,

He was the first harvest after a long dry year,

The sun after a long, never ending winter.

The roughness of his manly skin, the teasing of his stubbles that you were feeling for the first time, the scent of him, the scent of Levi, your husband, whom you never held close until this moment.

Levi was struggling too to stay focused, sometimes picking up your lower body to bring it closer to him then changing his mind and pushing you again against the mattress, you felt how heavy he was on you, the feeling odd and foreign, dominating yet protective.

The bed was squeaking for the first time in the room, the sound dreadfully adding to your arousal. Hearing the wood of your shared bed hitting the ground made you dizzy, and soon, too soon, a strangled cry left your lips. This voice, it was yours, but you never heard it before, neither did Levi.

Levi-

You hung onto him for dear life, making sure you didn't drown in this sea of new emotions yet, feeling secure in his arms, feeling cared about, catered to, you decided to loosen up your grip and let yourself relax a little more in his embrace, allowing him to be your safety net in the midst of this raging torrent of new discovered happiness.

He hadn't kissed you back since he initiated the whole thing, and you noticed he was careful not to let your lips touch since you got serious, turning his head aside or burying it in the crook of your neck.

In fact, Levi was purposefully trying to avert the collision of your lips while having sex, afraid of the powerful emotions those two acts combined could stir in him.

Hands roaming all over his head, searching for his face, messing his hair, you tried to bring his face to you.

"I want to kiss you" , you said breathless, almost in a whisper that you could barely hear yourself.

As a response, everything stopped: the sound of the bed stopped, the rocking of your bodies ceased and the mouvement of his hips slowed down to a painfully inexistent pace.

Have you said something wrong ? was he going to stop and leave ?

"...Love ?" you attempted, not without a hint of shyness.

You never called him like that, but tonight, you couldn't think of another way or another word to call him. Tonight, that was everything he was, and it was everything you could feel, love.

"Am i...worthy enough ?" he finally let out in a whisper.

You couldn't see his face, his long and silky black locks blocking your view, and he knew it, but it made it easier for him to be vulnerable.

"What ?"

"Am i worthy...of all this ? of you ?"

Your mind was static and numb while your heart kept pounding, a rather strange and unsettling state to be in.

"Why would you say such a thing ?" you tried bringing a comforting hand to his face.

"Are you ready to love a tired man ? a hunted man ? a man who caused so many deaths ? a man with death following each one of his steps ?"

Those words were so painful to hear for you. He tilted his head up and you could read all the sincerity in his eyes, there were so much things you could see in them too, but mostly, you could see despair. Levi being this vulnerable and undressing his soul in front of you was such a rare thing, and you decided to treat it as it was, something precious, something that needed to be cherished, loved and handled with care, right now, he felt like he could crumble under your mere touch.

You placed your two hands on his bare shoulders now glistering in sweat in the pale light, you grabbed him firmly and pulled him closer, nuzzling your head in this lovely space between his neck and shoulder, your mouth breathing on his collarbone. He was still inside of you, but the sweet warmth had traveled to where your heads were touching now, where your souls were southing each other, both of your breaths hesitant yet heavy.

When you spoke, you spoke more to his clavicle than directly to him, you brought up both of your hands from his back to his shoulder blades, blushing at how strong they were.

"Levi ?"

"Yes ?" he responded, and you felt some edginess attached to his voice.

"Aren't you-" you paused, not sure where you were going with this, but you tried your best to convey your deepest and truest feelings, some small watery pearls already beading at the corner of yours eyes." Aren't you the one who taught me to make choices i don't regret ? don't you know i love you ? i loved you when you were at your lowest and admired you at your outmost best, i know the amount of blood your hands had to smear to get to where you are now, but i also know that those hands who used to kill for benefit are now killing for higher purposes, the lost child you were grew up to even make sure other lost children didn't have to go down the path you had to take, that orphanage you sat up with Historia when she got crowned, how you dusted off those cadets every time they doubt themselves. Levi, those are the things that make you who you are, not the things you had to do to survive. You killed so much but can you really tell me the amount of people you saved doesn't outnumber the ones whom you took lives from ? in times of peace, you didn't choose to do more harm, you chose life, you chose serving a greater cause. This, this is who you are. I am proud of this man i married. Levi i chose you and i'll keep choosing you every single day.

He listened carefully, not interrupting you, it was as if he was rediscovering himself through your carefully embroidered words, he still thought you gave him too much credits, but he couldn't deny that there was truth to what you were saying. He also loved how much you cared for what happened to him, how you were monitoring his acts and paying attention. Yes, you were, no one had ever payed attention to him like this besides maybe Hange, but it was another kind of connection that tied him to his extravagant scientific of a friend, it was like, camaraderie and familiarity, he never felt the need to marry them, while you...he felt he needed you in his life, he needed you to be by his side, but was never able to convey his feelings in a physical, vulnerable manner.

"I choose you too, everyday, every single one of them, over any one"

His forehead pressed on yours, he pushed you further more into the mattress with each word he pronounced.

You let go of yourselves, fully rejoicing in each others sights. That desperate look in his face disappeared, replaced by a rested expression, as if your words really did soothe his features. Your eyes traveled down to his muscles, to his abdomen, and way past that.

You could feel his heavy gaze on you too, mapping you out again with his eyes. Without warning, he latched on your mouth again, molding your lips with love this time, determined to feel everything tonight, every hint of restlessness seemed to have leaved him.

"I'm going in again, is it alright with you ?"

You nodded, your forehead on his temples, meshing both of your sweaty locks togethers as you did so.

"Are you enjoying it ?"

Truth is, you didn't at first, it was uncomfortable, and there was quite some pain to it, but when he kissed you, he made it tolerable, but by the time the bed was hitting the floor again, pain left the place for more serene sensations, then some more overwhelming ones.

"Yes" you said, half lie half truth.

His body was on you again, heavy but deliciously comforting, feeling a bit more at ease with each other, your legs were now on his shoulders, his thighs shamelessly spread apart with each of his animalistic thrusts, some of the sheets and pillows found their way on the floor, and the only sheet covering your bodies were painting creases everywhere with each shuffle of your bodies. His mouth was everywhere, on your neck, on your forehead, on your mouth, on your chest. Everywhere he could reach, he kissed. Thinking about how he had neglected you.

It wasn't long before both of you started painting with your breaths hitching, jolts of pleasure menacing to throw you both off some edges you couldn't see.

Without warning you felt a warm and bittersweet feeling unleash itself from within and crawl from the inner side of your thighs to your whole entire being, you felt you were losing grip of reality and Levi felt both close and distant at the same time, as if you got separated by an invisible veil for a second, spots, stars and constellations blurred your visions before you got brought down by the gravelly voice of Levi, reaching his epitome too, having you discover him for the first time again. This, this to you was more precious than anything, this part of him, the chore of his being has found its path to you, you have seen your truths, you were inseparable now, through time and space.

Taking some time to gain back your usual rythme of breathing, you were surprised of how fondly he was staring at you, he even had a smile on him, it disappeared as fast as the climax did, but it had been there, it's all that counts.

"Is it painful now too ?"

"No"

You could still feel the pain, but you chose not to tell him. You cupped his face with one hand while you let the other travel down the small of his back, testing more and more foreign places, mapping out his body for you to remember later. Your fingers forcefully holding his jaw, you smiled as your wet tongues met again. By the moment you got bold enough to suck on the wet muscle inside his mouth, your hands were cupping his bottom which he didn't seem to mind one bit, and you were glad he let you claim him, at least for tonight. But by the way he moved, you could tell there will be more nights like these. Bringing up your hand to stroke this jaw you always found so attractive, you smiled at him affectionately.

Now you weren't afraid to say it.

"Levi, my love"

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miekasa · 3 years

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1+1 (levi ackerman)

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: modern au, fluff...... again....... is it getting boring and predictable yet lmao, once again the dog’s name is captain and no i do not regret it

↯ word count: 2.5k

↯ summary: levi ackerman is a cuddler, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. (aka me once again pushing my physical affection is levi’s love language agenda because he’s a poor, touch-starved little man).

i. the lap pillow: person A sits upright, while person B rests their head in person A’s lap. head pets and hair playing option, but highly encouraged.

Levi spent an obnoxious amount of time picking out the perfect couch for his apartment. He might have paid a little bit more than what he’d originally budgeted for, but it was worth it; his soft, plush couch and accompanying cushions were equally comfortable and beautiful, matching the interior of his living room, and posing at the perfect nap spot when Levi was too tired to make it to the bed, or wanted to lounge around with Captain for a while.

Or, well, it used to be worth it. Because now, Levi would rather lay his head on your lap than on his stupid, expensive couch and all its cushions.

Sure, the couch still provides comfort or refuge for the rest of his body, a comfy cavern to stretch his limbs or crash on after a long day, but with you there, all the benefits go to his head; literally, because when his head is in your lap, you stroke his face, comb through his hair, pad your thumb against his lips—whatever, Levi doesn’t really fucking care, because all of it is heavenly.

“Do you want to go to bed?” you question softly, hand raking through Levi’s hair. He’s lying on his back, not even pretending to have been watching the TV, as to let you have maximum access to his hair and face.

“No,” he says shortly, shifting his foot around to allow for your yorkie puppy to curl up at the other end of the couch, “Comfortable here.”

You try to hide the chuckle from escaping your lips. Levi certainly wasn’t shy about how much he liked your affections, especially within the closed walls of his apartment; but it always amused you just how simultaneously clipped, yet clingy he could be about it.

“Your neck is going to hurt, love,” you tell him, slowly moving your right hand from his hair to trace along his eyebrow, then down his cheek.

Levi huffs, ever so slightly. Then, gently, turns on his side, rotating his body and head, so that his cheek is now pressed along your thigh, legs curled up to his stomach, allowing Captain more space to curl into a ball at the base of Levi’s feet. He bends his arms, both coming to rest on your thighs as well, just an inch from his face.

“It’s fine like this,” he grumbles, voice thick with sleep—and a bit of frustration, because you’ve ceased playing with his hair at this point, “I’m going to take a nap, don’t move.”

You can help your laughter from escaping, “I don’t really have a choice, now do I?”

He hums in affirmation, shifting around just a bit to his comfort. You smile at the way he wiggles his toes, Captain taking it as an invitation to snuggle closer to Levi. You rest your right hand against Levi’s shoulder, lightly massaging his muscles as to not disturb his drifting to sleep, and resume your focus on the TV ahead of you.

Just when you’d thought Levi was on his way to falling asleep, he lets out a discontented grunt, moving his arm backwards to grab at your wrist, and with gentle, but firm force, moves your hand that was massaging his shoulder to the top of his head. He says nothing, only moves his hand back to its previous position, and once again shifts to readjust his napping position.

You get the message, and with a wide smile, you carefully begin to thread your fingers through his hair again; and with a satisfied purr, Levi snuggles his head into your lap, and finally drifts off to sleep.

ii. the half spoon/chest rest: person A lays flat on their back, while person B curls into their side, laying their head on person A’s chest.

Levi rarely falls asleep before you do, so he’s had quite a bit of time to observe your sleep habits—as non-creepily as possible, of course.

You’re a pretty normal sleeper—again, not that he spends his time watching other people sleep, or anything—but you do have your own quirks; most of which Levi finds endearing on some level or another. Like the way you always have to have a minimum of three pillows on your side of the bed, even if you don’t sleep with all three of them at the same time. And the way your arms subconsciously curl up, usually around a pillow if Levi isn’t there, or even around yourself if there’s no object for you to grasp.

One of your sleeping ticks he isn’t particularly fond of is the way you move around. Not sporadically, and thankfully, not to a point that leaves you sprawled across the mattress at an obscure angle, but just… around. He especially hates when you roll away from him, because you usually roll away and never roll back.

Which is why Levi is generally fond of cuddling positions in which he’s holding you, as to make sure you don’t, quite literally, roll out of his arms. Because nothing pisses Levi off more than waking up and realizing you’ve rolled away and taken to snuggling against your pillow instead of him. He’s much better than a pillow. Warmer, too. Not mention, a real, actual human being.

Right now, you’re tucked almost expertly into Levi’s right side, head laying on his chest, your right arm over his stomach, hand just barely tickling the exposed skin from his shirt riding up. Levi likes the feeling of your shallow exhales rippling against his shirt, and the warmth of your cheek pressed against his chest.

He’s about to fall asleep himself, when he feels you shuffling, and oh no, not on his watch. Before the worst can happen, Levi secures his right arm over your shoulder, as to hold you against him. The urge to roll seems to leave you then, the only movement is of your right arm, which you bend at the elbow, now laying your palm against his pecs.

Levi exhales, content. Now he can sleep peacefully. Well, almost. There’s one more thing he likes about this position, and it’s his ability to use his free hand to reach down, scoop under your knee and drape your leg across his waist—and he does so happily; smiling to himself as you subconsciously burrow yourself further into his side.

Much better, Levi thinks, letting his eyelids flutter shut. It was time for bed, after all, and he had a feeling he’d be waking up warm and cozy in the morning.

iii. full contact cuddle: person A sits or lays on their back, while person B rests almost directly on top of them.

“I don’t get why you like this so much,” you say, words mumble, as you shimmy up Levi’s body to lay your cheek against his chest, “How do you possibly benefit from this?”

If you asked Levi, this was probably his favorite way to cuddle. Something about having almost all of your body weight on top of him, your head against his chest, and his arms wrapped completely around you just made him feel warm, and cozy, and content. Plus, the added bonus of you laying directly on top of his dick.

He could say all of that, but instead he opts for a minimal hum, and, a simple, “It’s warm.”

“Yeah, because you’re warm, Levi,” you point out, but burrow into his skin anyway. You’re not exactly complaining, laying on Levi is nice; especially a shirtless Levi, with how warm his body runs. And, well, for other reasons, too.

Once again, you’re met with a non-committal hum. Levi just holds you for a bit, listening for the way your breathing slows and evens out, feeling for signs of your body slowing down against his.

After a while, he shifts his arms, moving so that they’re no longer stacked atop each other, but with his palms both resting against your back, creeping under your shirt. “It’s the weight,” he replies carefully, moving his right hand to rub against your skin, “It feels nice.”

“The weight?” you question, lifting your head to look at him, your chin poking into his chest. Levi looks down to meet your eyes, a small nod in reassurance.

“I can’t… explain it,” he tells you truthfully, “I just like the feeling of you against me. It’s not symbolic or any shit like that, it just, feels good. Sometimes feels like we’re… I don’t know, connected or some shit. I can feel you breathe when I breathe, and all that.”

It’s a poor explanation, and nothing close to what he wants to be able to convey, but you understand him anyways; you always do. You have to hold back your overgrown smile, just barely letting the corners of your lips turn upwards at Levi’s response. You extend your neck briefly to place a short kiss against his jaw, before turning to head to lay back on his chest.

“No, I get it,” you reassure him, snuggling against him for extra measure, “Feels nice to just know you’re there.”

Levi hums in affirmation, his hand squeezing at your waist affectionately—a silent thank you for being able to read between his lines. You lay like that for a while, your exhales tickling against Levi’s bare chest, while his hands massage at your back.

“Besides,” he says, his hands slowly venturing down past your waist; he squeezes at your hips, adjusting you so that your center is directly on top of his, and encouraging you to lift your upper half, so that you’re looking down at him, a full view of the wicked smile on his face, “I kind of have a thing for you being on top of me.”

iv. the seated snuggle: person A sits upright, maybe slouched a bit, while person B cuddles into their side; a hand wrapped around A’s waist or arm, and B’s head resting against A’s shoulder.

Levi likes his alone time, but even when he’s focusing on himself, he’s acutely in tune with you and your emotions. And to be honest with himself, he spends a lot of his alone time thinking about you—consciously or not, you find a way into his brain, and Levi has long since accepted that you’re a permanent, and very welcome presence in his life, one that can be more powerful and enjoyable that his own solitude.

Even when he’s sitting on the couch, right leg bent and tucked under his left at the knee, a book Hange had recommended in his hand, with a shitty hospital drama playing as background noise on the television; even then, when he’s relaxing and enjoying his novel, he purposefully feels out your presence and gauges your emotions.

Though, if you asked him, it shouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to understand that you were feeling a little out of it today—maybe not quite sad, but moving a bit slower, perhaps tired, or annoyed by your day at work—despite the cheery lilt in your voice. But Levi knew, he could feel it, that something was off; but he could also feel that this something wasn’t getting talked about today, or that, perhaps you just didn’t have the words to express it right now.

Levi greets you as he would when you come through the door, tilts his head up when you lean down to give him a kiss, and lets you pad into your bedroom to change and shower. You shuffle around after that, making your way to the kitchen to reheat the dinner he’d cooked earlier, and flitter between your bedroom and the living room after that.

And Levi knows; he knows that you want to talk to him, but that you wouldn’t dare to interrupt his alone-time, because you know how important it is to him. What you fail to understand is that you’re just as, if not more, important to him because you give him space.

So, Levi waits until you’re hovering by the doorway of the living room again, and then, without looking up from his book, silently opens and extends his left arm. He counts three seconds before you come shuffling over to him, wasting no time tucking yourself into his side, and resting your head on his shoulder. Levi hums when he feels your cheek press into his neck, and wraps his arm securely around you.

“Long day?” he questions, eyes still on his book, but reading at a marginally slower pace now.

Your eyes flutter shut at the question, working harder to snuggle yourself into Levi, wrapping your arms around his waist, “The longest.”

Levi hums, finishing his page, and tucking the ear to mark his spot before closing his book. He turns his head to press a kiss into your forehead, and pulls you a little closer against him. “It’s over now, I’ve got you.”

v. the times together/pretzel: person A rests with back against a wall/couch/object, and person B mirrors their positions; both A and B’s legs are intertwined, while they look at each other.

Levi will only take a bath after he’s showered, because there’s no appeal in sitting in your own wet dirt. That being said, post-shower baths with you are something he looks forward to, especially after a long, drawn out work week.

You both sit facing each other, legs bent and intertwined, your empty champagne glasses resting on the tiled floor beside the tub. Levi lets you make bubble beards on his face, and smiles as you splash them away and placate it all with a crescendo of kisses.

“I love you,” you smile between presses of your lips, the palms of your hands squishing Levi’s cheeks together—and he just lets you, because he loves you.

Levi thinks it’s his turn now, though he has no interest in bubble beards, or mohawks, simply mirroring your actions to cup your face with his hands, pull you closer, a whisper on your lips.

Wet thumbs pad against your cheeks, and Levi thinks that even like this, with only the flicker of candle flames illuminating your face, that you’re beautiful, and the best thing he’s ever gotten the opportunity to love and care for in his life.

So he lets you know, “And I love you.” And he means it; and you know he does.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #aot fluff #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman smut #eren x reader

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toasterdrake · 3 years

Text

Zvezdnyy

Yelena Belova x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Genre: Fluff

anon requested: "Can you do a yelena one where Yelena is touch starved but readers love language is touch so they work together and one day they snuggle for the first time? thx"

⭐⭐⭐

Humans are wired to be touched. From birth until the day we die, our need for physical contact persists. It drives our emotional connections, our physical health.

It is one of those beautiful poetic moments that inspire us to keep living through all the hardship.

Yelena, however, had experienced little to no touch since she was a young child.

Her time with Alexei, Melina and Natasha had been the only memorable time in her life that wasn't cold. As the three years progressed, and she grew, so did their attachment to her. Alexei loved fawning over the little blonde, and even Melina had to admit she was cute.

In early life, touch is crucial for building healthy relationships. Missing out on regular human touch can have serious and long-lasting effects.

Melina, ever the scientist, was well aware of this, and tried her best, but Alexei was more comfortable giving the kids what they wanted. Piggyback rides with Papa were a popular form of transport in the Vostokoff-Shostakov household.

However, Yelena's eventual line of work, away from her parents and her sister, didn't exactly make a habit of hugs or holding hands. This inevitably resulted in touch starvation in the young Widow.

The feeling was deeply rooted in Yelena's psyche. It was a lusting hunger; a primal need from within, clawing up her throat. But her training kept it constantly tamped down, insisting it be ignored in favour of the mission. She was never allowed to understand this burning, lonely desire.

After Oksana and Natasha, it grew from a mild heat to a raging fire. Every brushing of skin ignited something in her fingertips, like hot electricity attracting her to beg for more.

What that 'more' was, she couldn't figure out. Not until you.

You were a very touchy person. You had loving, attentive parents that encouraged physical displays of affection all your life. Of course, they had their faults, and no parenting technique is perfect, but the frequent gentle touches had raised you to find comfort in contact.

You'd grown up a hugger, in a word, and all your friends were well aware of it. If they thought they could avoid you being attached to their sides, clambering over them, or resting your feet in their laps whenever they were in your vicinity, they thought wrong.

Yelena was the exception.

Not in a hateful way; very much the opposite, actually. In such a way that you paid extra attention to how she acted and reacted. In such a way that you noticed when she flinched or froze up under your touch. In such a way that you withdrew your friendly touches because you weren't blind.

Yelena was also the exception in the way she was more than a friend.

Your relationship was still new, and you were scared to be asking too much from her. You were still adjusting to each other, learning how to be together, learning what you wanted from the other and how to give what they wanted.

And the more you withdrew, the more Yelena began to tentatively want it, you, your touch, back.

Even in her relationship with you, Yelena couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly lonely. Not because you weren't paying her attention, affection: you still showed that in different ways. But you were right there, next to her… and yet you weren't close enough. The blanket you were both wrapped in wasn't enough; you were.

But she didn't know how to ask. So instead, she slipped away from you, leaving you to doze, and took a long, hot bath.

She curled up alone in bed that night, cold, guilt clawing at her throat and churning in her stomach. Fanny tucked herself into Yelena's side, golden fur tangling in her fingers. Fanny's warmth still wasn't enough. Fanny wasn't you.

She was only able to fall asleep after you had stumbled into bed beside her hours later. You weren't even sharing a room yet. You wanted to be close to her as much as she did you.

You were simply better versed in expressing that desire.

You wanted to show Yelena your affection for her the way you knew how. And you decided to make that known.

You scooted a little closer every time you sat together, little by little by little, eyes trained on the movie playing. You leaned into her when she helped you cook, stretching over her to grab something, trailing a hand on her waist when you leaned away so that the contact was never broken. You slipped your hand into hers while waiting for a ride to collect you both.

You were careful not to cross any boundaries, though, adjusting accordingly when Yelena subtly distanced herself.

Slowly, she began to accept your advances.

"[Y/N]? [Y/N]?"

"Wha- what?" You wake up, trying to blink away the blurriness of your vision to get a clearer view of the figure leaning over you.

Yelena shifts awkwardly, fiddling with the corner of your covers. "I can't sleep." She admits shyly.

Something, you're not sure what in your half-asleep state, but something, clicks in you. You shuffle over to make room, opening your arms to her, and she readily crawls under the sheets.

You lay on your back, looking at her across the bed for a long few moments. There's that closeness again; that not-quite-close-enough closeness; that simmering, bubbling heat.

You clear your throat, wincing at how abrupt it is in the dark and quiet room, at how sharply it makes Yelena snap her gaze to you. You open your arms again, silent invitation in your eyes.

Yelena shifts forward, tentatively curling into your side. Soft, pyjama-clad skin glides over yours like velvet, until the warmth of her settles pressed into you.

Slow and steady, you wrap an arm around her waist, firm enough to remind her that you are there. Your fingers splay over her stomach, drawing abstract patterns.

She rests her head on your chest. Your heartbeat is calm and strong. She matches her breathing to it, looking through the darkness out the window at the blanket of stars.

"Do any of them catch your fancy?" You ask. She can feel your gaze following hers, your fingertips floating lazily.

She points at a small star just coming into view from behind a drifting cloud. It's light is weaker than the others, twinkling faintly among the diamond glitters.

"I bet it wants to learn how to shine brighter," You begin softly. Yelena snorts, but doesn't stop you.

"It's packing up its possessions; a picture of its beloved sister, its famous iced coffee technique;" Yelena buries a giggle in the crook of your neck, then peeks back out at her star. "And it's setting out to visit it's aunt, who lives on the other side of the galaxy. She's one of the brightest... Nebulaway stars, so she'll surely be able to teach it how to shine.

Along the path, it meets another star. They shine even brighter than it's aunt, so it asks them to teach it. They say, 'shining isn't something you can learn... Shining comes to you naturally when the time is right. That time is different for everyone'. The dull little star doesn't feel this is helpful at all, so it carries on and leaves them behind. Further up the road, it meets another star."

Your story is interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn, tears springing to your eyes. You blink them away and continue. "This star asks if it has any spare iced coffee, since he ran out. The dull little star -- y'know what, let's call him Jeffrey," Yelena's laugh evolves into her own yawn. "Jeffrey gives him the last of it's coffee.

He says 'this is the best iced coffee I've ever had. What's the difference? Is it your brand? Do you use... Milky too?' Jeffrey shows him, and it turns out the ingredients are the same." Yelena half-heartedly provides a shocked gasp. "Jeffrey teaches him its technique. He carries on the path much happier with his new flask of iced coffee.

Jeffrey carries on, and now notices the dark path it had been following to reach Nebulaway is now illuminated. It looks around, but doesn't see any other stars. It is the only star here on the path, and the light radiates around it."

You pause again, this time for thought. You look down, and notice Yelena's eyes are closed. She breathes steadily, deeply, an arm around your waist and head settled on your shoulder. Her warm, sweet breath fans over your collarbone.

You smile, pressing a kiss to her head as your own heavy eyelids fall gratefully shut.

⭐⭐⭐

Taglist: @starryparchments @themagnificentmx @bisexual-chupacabra

love,

- Lynx

#yelena belova #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova fluff #marvel imagine #lynx writes

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husbandohunter · 3 years

Text

What they love about you (part 2)[Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha. Part 1 here

Genre: fluff

"Poetry for my hopeless romantic heart 🥺 and Kazuha, he was the perfect candidate for this. I decided to put Zhongli first of course, he deserves it after saving my ass in Baal's fight."

=================================

Spirit flows through the Immovable rock (Zhongli)

Nations fall, truths be told, iron rusts and earth erode

Through six centuries these were stories he watched unfold.

He sees you and the archon knew that you shall too grow old

But despite it all, he loves you for your existence, as nothing can compare to your intransient soul.

The purpose of contracts were made to ensure there had been a fair trade between two parties. Like merchants striking business deals for a favourable outcome, like mother nature maintaing the balance between life and death, like how you and your beloved said your vows and whispered promises to one another as evening bids farewell by the warm welcome of the moon's gentle glow. Those days were the most treasured that you couldn't help remisicing them-- when Zhongli appeared in your life. Your mortal life. How time can fly so fast.

Perhaps this had been a common notion among human standards. That to be connected, both sides must share the same factors in order to proceed the contract. Clearly your placement proved to be mismatched. Unlike Zhongli there could be a day when your legs gave up and you can no longer walk. He will go on without you, continuing to drift in places where you cannot reach, where time was out of the question, further and further away until the mist begins to seize your field of vision and soon your eyes were too old to see.

The difference in age can truly make someone feel alone and Zhongli knew it well. Thus he smiled softly like he always does and held you close, speaking with so much kindness:

My dearest.

Your soul existed like an evergreen tree blooming through all four seasons, unwithered and everlasting, even against the cold storm of white. And it could be as soft as the sunbeam cascading through the mountain peaks while they dust the land with their ethereal hues and emitting the warmth that breaths absolute serenity. If artifacts were a piece of what someone left behind then maybe everything you made was considered an artifact-- a treasure. A piece of you in those handwritten letters, the beauty in your fingertips after knitting him a scarf which caused scars to mar them, and because of how heavy your spirit weighs through everything you did, it became evident that the one he had fallen for was not your skin nor your body but the person who resides in it.

And sometimes he wonders if he had met you once upon a dream. What else could explain the mysterious feeling that made you seem so familiar, even when he only saw you for the first time? Or perhaps you were an old friend from the long long past, someone he stargazed with upon the infinite mounds of grass and glaze lilies, someone whom he shared the taste of osmanthus wine, someone he came to cherished just like how he cherished his own nation. Regardless, whether you were that someone or not, he wouldn't hesitate to relive those times all over again.

If there was a day when the world around you decided to cave in, where time inevitably caught up and you succumbed to change, he would still be yours. After all, the immovable stone was meant to be the symbol of constancy. He already sworn to you that his devotion and affection will never waver, they were solely held towards your essence for you had touched him through the things he could not touch, and left a mark that would last longer than his ancient self can last. Zhongli may have lived through many lifetimes but meeting you was the beginning of everything. You were a mortal immortalized in the world his heart, etched so deep that it stirs him apart, there was no room for anyone else.

~xx~

Drowning in the ocean flames (Tartaglia)

There was a man who fell deeply in love with war

They raged inside of him like the spontaneous battlefields he came to adore.

Consumed by desire, pain became an addiciton

And he eventually surrenders to the heat of your passion.

While many fear death, Childe learned to dance with it.

He revels in the way his heart pounds endlessly, as if new life had been born from the inside and then bursted like thunder, sending trembling sensations through his veins, bringing him to the peak of euphoria. The feeling was a drug in which Childe hesitates no more when he confronts it, rather he deliberately seeks it. He seeks thrill in the most dangerous situations since they were the moments that made him feel so alive.

Henceforth the Harbinger sought you out. He inches closer and ever so close, those deep cerulean eyes trapped in your hypnotizing ones. Childe loves how you look at him like you were about to devour him, consume him as the flames in hell would, perhaps destroy him completely to the point there was no turning back and yet...he would not mind.

Childe had been so drawn to you like a moth to a light. No. Rather, Adam and the devil, tempting him to sin because the things he would do for you were undeniably impetuous. It was too late. It was too late when you told him you wanted to stay. Too late when you pulled him down, with arms around his neck, stealing away his breath in one swift manner as well as a kiss. Curse you for having so much power over him, from then and there he was no longer the mighty harbinger everyone knew but a man foolish in love. Take him higher. Higher. Take him far. To say you were alluring would be an understatement. The scent of you brings all his senses to disarray and the taste of you-- by the archons-- had never made him feel so starved. All he thought of was mindlessly running his hands over your small back, reveling in the shape of you, exploring every inch and curve in attempt to make you completely his.

This was the reason why he grew accustomed to dancing with death. Because it was you. You were going to be the cause of his downfall and you were the cause of this insanity. Even though you constantly reminded him how risky the situation was due to being a wanted criminal in his homeland's eyes, Childe pays no mind. Didn't he already tell you to trust him? Anyone who threatens you would be an enemy of his, much to their misfortune. Whether it'd be conquering the world and laying it beneath your feet or walking through the depths of the abyss all over again, he'll make sure to have it all and no one can say otherwise.

~xx~

Shelter (Albedo)

Your warmth was his hearth

Like stars falling onto the earth

Gracing the plains in an empereal bliss

As they trembled under the touch of heaven's kiss

Closing his eyes, you are the first person he sees.

The sound of snow chasing the wind fills the silent night once again while it's whispered blows continued to echo just by the cave's entrance. Albedo had planned to take you back to Monstadt that day but Dragonspine was not the place to be merciful with the weather. No one else except the two of you occupied the abandoned space and a singular camp fire to serve as a source of warmth. You place your hand on your lover's forehead, brushing away his ash coloured strands while he seeps into slumber. Albedo sighs contentedly. Despite the world being engulfed in sheer cold, here he felt safe and sound.

Before meeting you Albedo never really had that. People regularly held him on a high regard and had a hard time matching his pace. He was a born genius to the point that he practically stood out like a swan out of the ducklings' crowd as they admired his brilliance. Truly Albedo was a perfect human being. But when turns around to see the rest he noticed how distant everything seemed. He was so focused on his pursuit towards the universal truth that he hadn't given the time to consider; where is he going with this? And what for? Everyone else looked so happy living in their mundane routines and Albedo soon grew curious about such thoughts. Out of all the places in Monstadt, exactly where does he belong?

Opening his eyes, you are the first person he looks for.

"Welcome home, Albedo!"

The answer was obvious. Home was the sound of his name on your lips. When you were side by side with him while he sketched the landscape from the far distance. In places where the lights were on as he entered the room, knowing you were inside. This feeling couldn't be describe with just a word. Home was not a nation nor was it a destination. Home was in your touch where he felt the most protected.

I'm home.

A sky filled with stars and he only saw one; his Starlight. Your warmth held the emotion similar to the kind where there had only been one cande lit amidst an infinite stretch of darkness. But it also brought the joy of flowers blossoming into the vivid future of new spring. There was no place he'd rather be than the shelter of your arms because with you, Albedo believed he truly found where he belonged.

~xx~

Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves (Kazuha)

Silencing the world

My heart begins to find peace

Soothed by your presence

- For my beloved, (Y/n)

I remember how the first petal of spring drifted by as it had flown into the crossroads of our path. Subconciously my entire being began to still. This particular flower... it must have come far and wide for the wind to carry such a pleasant scent. Although I had intended to continue my venture onwards but the air ceased to sound and I knew that this way was true. And so nature beckons me to the shore where the waves lulled back and forth under the moonlight's entrance, only then I began to sharpen my vision to see what was before me. You stood there on a rock with your face looking into the sparkling sky, singing a tune that drew me near. Just the mere sight was enough to stir my heart alone.

My beloved, do you know why I named this poem 'Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves?'

Watching you was like witnessing the ephmereal birth of a flower sprouting amongst the slums of an abandoned nation. A fleeting miracle where snow falls from the summer sky. I am compelled to capture these feelings in this poem yet there are moments where my thoughts scatter as if the autumn wind had whisked them away and out of my grasp until a singular leaf is only what was left. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary for me to keep a notebook of ways I can describe your presence, instead a few simple sentences would suffice. Nevertheless, I only wish to express my feelings for you.

When you're with me it seems I have nothing to think about. The aura around you can silence the world alone, speaking louder than thunder cries, weighing heavily to those around you in ways it would feel empty if you're not here. Yet I could breath as if alleviated from the burdens of my past. This had me realize that this must have been the will of the wind. You were the greatest gift to have ever bestowed upon me and I confess, sometimes my chest aches because of how much I cherish you, it pierces me like a sharp blade but even if my heart bleeds it will continue to bleed only for your sake.

So wherever you are, wherever you may be, I can feel you in the breeze. Return soon my beloved, I'll be here, waiting.

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not-wholly-unheroic · 3 years

Photo

Favorite Images of Hook (Part Two - Disney’s Return to Neverland, 2002)

1. Image in the Clouds - This was SUCH a creative way for Disney to recap the first film without using any words, and I LOVE it--the star in place of Hook’s eye and the smaller ones that trace the line where the edge of his cravat would be are perfect. Even Tink’s trail of pixie dust forms the shape of a hook!

2. Hook in Jane’s Room - One of the things I love most about Hook is his grandiosity, and this image shows that part of him perfectly. He looks so proud of himself. The mustache twirling seems to be a habit of his when he’s either thinking or feeling rather smug. Definitely the latter going on here.

3. Hugging Smee - This is another scene that I really like because of the vulnerability it shows as well as further highlighting his relationship with Mr. Smee. Hook seems to seek out physical touch for reassurance when he is afraid both in the first film and the sequel. Heck, here he doesn’t even wait for Smee to come to his aid but reaches out in desperation and drags Smee into a hug. This man is so clearly touch-starved that it breaks my heart.

4. Dinghy in the Mist - This shot...y/all, this looks like it belongs in a Pirates of the Caribbean film. The lighting and the mist give it such an eerie, mysterious mood as Hook slowly comes into focus.

5. Hook’s Close-Up in the Forest - This is probably my absolute favorite shot of Hook from either film. It would be a hard choice, but if I had to pick just one, this would be it. Some shots of Hook look rather silly, but this one feels very human. His eyes are soft and warm. His smile is charming. And while he might be acting in the moment, we see who he COULD have been if he’d chosen a different path in life.

6. Giving Jane the Whistle - This is sort of cheating since it isn’t actually an image of Hook himself but rather a close-up of the claw and his hand as he passes off the whistle to Jane, but I think it holds a lot of significance. Jane is drawn to Hook because of their similarities and, quite possibly, the similarities she sees between him and her own father--a military man. This gesture of handing over the whistle is done so tenderly that it might well have reminded Jane of Edward giving her something special to hold onto as he went off to war. Again, I recognize that Hook is using this connection to his advantage, but I think it also offers another glimpse of the man he might have been.

7. The Bosun’s Chair/Dead Man’s Cave - I love everything about this shot--the elegance of his perch on the bosun’s chair, the little smirk on his face. My only question is...what the heck are the ropes attached to???

8. Hook Laughing - I’m sure by now you’re probably sensing a theme... Look, I know this is supposed to be a villainous laugh, but I just like it when Hook smiles, okay?

9. Jane Tries to Get the Key - This scene is almost upsetting to me because let’s be real, Hook NEVER stops moving for very long. He’s a super active character, and seeing him laid out on the deck in the midst of battle, well...quite frankly, it looks like he’s dead. It’s unsettling and unusual, and while I don’t like the thought of Hook dying, I like the image because it brings a bit of gravity to his potential plight.

10. Final Showdown with Jane - There are honestly several scenes from the final showdown that I really like, and it was hard to choose just one. This Hook is far more dangerous than the one we see in the first film. When he first pops up from being knocked unconscious, he has the hook around Jane’s wrist and nearly lops HER hand off, then quickly makes a stab at her (barely missing) and eventually ends up pinning her to the past with the claw around her neck. This is pretty intense stuff for a Disney film. But I think my favorite moment is when he’s up on the spar, drawing his sword as he slowly backs Jane closer and closer to the edge. His hair is blowing across his face in the wind and he has this wild, dangerous look about him that too often we forget exists in the moments of comedy.

#captain hook #disney #peter pan #return to neverland #disney peter pan #disney captain hook #captain james hook #james hook #disney villains

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