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cheeriecherrymain · 8 months

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papa!Viktor blurb, anyone?

A/N: slowly, slowly, recovering from the creative drought ive been in

it's nowhere near a waterfall again, more like a frustrating dribble, BUT. It's something. But anyways, here is a Papa Viktor Thought Blurb (listen, my sister is almost three months old now, and I am so besotted with her, she's my favourite tiny person, and i am full of Caretaker Feelings)

Content Warning: 18+ MDNI (not explicit, but very very suggestive), afab!Reader, pregnancy, labour and birth (again, not explicit, but still with some depth), papa!Viktor, no beta no editing we simply die

Imagine Viktor, and him believing he'll be alone for his entire life - working so hard to make some kind of legacy for himself, putting everything he has into his creations and his machines. Every calculation, every experiment a labour of love.

This is how the world will remember his name.

At least, he hopes.

But then he meets you.

You're charming, he has to admit. You make friends wherever you go, and you have a weird habit of bringing people out of their shells. There's just...something about you that makes others want to bare their souls to you. Something that draws people in.

Like you have a tangible sort of gravity, and wherever you go, someone ends up in your orbit.

He won't mean much to you, he thinks, after conversing with you a couple times. You're creative, like he is, and you're enjoyable to talk to. But nothing more. Sooner or later, you'll continue on somewhere else, making waves and drawing attention. And in your wake, he will be left to sink. It's what expects.

Except...

You don't leave.

Your chats start out small. Short and sweet, a How are you today? wondered whenever you pass each other in the halls a couple times a month, curious about the goings-on of his life.

He never has anything interesting to tell you about. No adventures or tales to tell, nothing beyond the walls of a cramped and cluttered office.

You must be bored, he thinks.

But then you start seeking him out. Instead of just catching up for a couple minutes whenever you happen to walk past each other, you hunt him down in his office - and god, he wasn't lying when he'd told you it was cramped.

You're amazed he even has the space to think in there, with how tight it is. Yet you still shimmy yourself into the tiny room, careful not to disturb any piles of papers, and find a careful seat on a spot of open floor beside his desk. There's no room for a second chair, and you've always made it clear that you dislike standing when you're having a long conversation.

It's nice to sit down and rest somewhere together, you'd told him one time.

You grow closer after that. From seeing him a couple times a month, to a couple times a week, to literally every day. You don't seem to care that he never has anything 'exciting' to share with you, even going so far as to chastise him for calling himself uninteresting.

Your experiments are cool, you'd insisted, while leafing through one of his old journals. It's incredible to get to see how your mind works, and how creative and inventive you are. You have so many ideas, Viktor, and I really believe that they could help people.

Something changes in him, after that. He'd always been quieter around you, listening to your stories, and dutifully answering your questions: never quite letting you in.

Now he looks forward to seeing you.

His heart skips a beat every time he hears you knocking on his office door, a chipper little pattern reserved only for him. You know that he doesn't always like dealing with students after hours, so you'd come up with a way to let him know that it was you who was greeting him.

Things progress...surprisingly natural.

He's not subtle by any means, even if he thinks he is. The moment he realizes that he has feelings for you, all bets are off. His cheeks dust pink whenever you're around, his palms get sweaty and he fidgets, and the staring.

Looking at you with ill-contained admiration and affection.

You can't not kiss him.

You spend the next couple years having the time of your lives. Moving from classes and overbearing internships, to actively working on experiments. Collaborating with each other, drawing up ideas and debating functionality and form. The two of you get so heated when you're creating things together.

Neither of you are surprised when it devolves. Wide gestures and hasty chalkboard sketches, impassioned explanations and wild eyes - you bite your lip as you let your gaze trail over him, in all his dishevelled beauty. Hair a mess, tie crooked and loose, shirt partially unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Many nights are spent like that, cooped up in his little laboratory, surrounded by sketches and blueprints and scribbles and stray notes. His fingertips digging into the soft of your skin as he kisses the breath out of you. The rhythmic clunking of his crooked desk most telling, as he draws forth your little squeaks and sighs of delight.

Absolutely ruining you, filling you, stretching you open. Feeling the way you tremble in his hands, held tight to his slender body as he reaches so deep into you that you'll feel him for days.

Sinking his teeth into the side of your neck when he finds his own release - to stay quiet, he tells you. But you both know it's his way of marking you.

Claiming you.

You're his. You're his person, his love, his partner. Your eyes only ever shine the way they do when you look at him.

Your body, splayed out and spread before him, quivering and gasping and covered in a thin sheen of sweat - his.

Your taste, sweet on his tongue - your mouth, your skin, your arousal that drips out of you whenever he so much as looks at you.

His.

And he knows, without a single atom of doubt, that he's also yours. So entirely entangled with each other, neither of you knowing how you'd managed to exist separately before now.

How had you possibly found beauty in every day, when you'd never heard his voice? Never caught a whiff of his sweet shampoo as he ambled past you? Never felt the warmth of his touch, or the puff of his sighs on your cheek? Never known the tickle of his hair on your bare skin as you slowly woke every morning to find him curled around you, his face smashed into your back and soft snores emanating from him?

No matter, you think. You have him now, and that's what's important.

...until everything changes.

You miss a period.

You tell him about it.

You're both on edge, but he tries to remain optimistic. Cycles can be upset sometimes, he tells you, as if you don't already know. (You're certain he's really just trying to reassure himself.)

But deep down, you know.

You can feel it in the all-encompassing tiredness you wake with every morning. In the random bouts of nausea, and the sudden food aversions. The back aches, and all the sudden new smells you can detect.

You know something is amiss.

And he knows, too, when he finds you one time in the middle of the night. Standing in your shared little kitchen, in the dark, illuminated only by the light of the open refrigerator.

Pulling pickles straight out of the jar, dipping them in mayonnaise, and sinking your teeth into them. Like they were to most delectable thing you'd ever ingested.

You're both terrified, of course.

You're not really surprised that you've managed to fall pregnant - not with the way you two lust after each other practically every night, and sometimes in the morning. Maybe even once or twice in between meetings, when you're both squished together in his compact office.

Neither of you ever thought you'd become parents.

And certainly not right now.

But...you want this, you realize. You want this with him. You want a family with him, you want the evidence of your love - you want a future with him, and you want to see what beautiful little person you'll make together.

Would they have his eyes? Yours? He hopes they have your smile, he tells you, eventually.

It takes you by surprise, his words, what with how quiet he'd been since you'd both figured everything out. You'd been worrying that he wasn't really on board with keeping the baby - with being a father. And you hadn't blamed him, really.

You'd been beyond stressed at the idea of raising a child alone. The thought of him leaving you, leaving behind something so intrinsically tied to him, had been slowly breaking your heart. You hadn't wanted him to stay simply out of obligation - you know you wouldn't be able to cope with the eventual resentment that such an action would breed.

But to know for certain now that he'd only been anxious?

That he wanted this with you, and was excited?

You're so happy that you immediately burst into tears, squeaking and sniffling and snotting uncontrollably while Viktor bites back a laugh and herds you into his embrace. Stroking your back and murmuring the sweetest things to you while you try to catch your breath, leaving gentle kisses all over your face.

Telling you all about what kind of person he hoped your little one would be.

Your smile, most certainly, he said, resolute. You have the most beautiful smile. You light up the room wherever you go. Maybe your sense of humour, too. And certainly your compassion.

Your tears slowly began to lessen, as you let yourself be lulled by the comfort of his arms around you.

Your hair, though, you insist, smushing your face into his shirt. You look so pretty in the mornings, all fluffed up and in disarray. It's the cutest shit I've ever seen.

That garners a laugh from him.

I want them to have your eyes, as well, you admit, albeit somewhat shyly. I've never seen a colour like yours, so intense and complex. Way back when we first met, and you looked at me for the very first time? I almost lost the ability to breathe. It was...it was like I knew, right then. That you were the person I wanted to spend my life with.

He squeezes you a little bit tighter, stooping down to tenderly slot your lips together. Slow, lazy, intimate. Sharing breath and warmth and love and-

He takes you again.

Right there, in the dim quiet of his office, not seeming to care if anyone passing by in the hallway might hear you. Spoiling you absolutely rotten, speaking praises against your skin as he brings you over the edge again and again and again.

Pupils blown wide as he sinks his fingers into you, crooking them perfectly as to reach the spots he knows will drive you mad. The papers strewn around the room don't matter - they don't even cross his mind, as you wriggle and squirm and quiver and cry out for him.

How could they, when all he can focus on is the way you look when your body tenses up, another wave of ecstasy coursing through your veins, culminating in your lovely little noises, and the addicting feeling of your pleasure dripping down his fingers and over his palm, soaking him thoroughly.

He would be happy to have you like this, as frequently as you would let him.

He knows how sensitive you must be by now, not only from his ministrations, but also from the way your body is changing. He's done his fair amount of reading since discovering your pregnancy - he's aware of all the ways you might be feeling.

The hunger, the exhaustion, the aches and pains.

The all-encompassing, single-minded lust you might go through.

He's ready to please you, however you might want - his fingers, his mouth. And whenever you might want. You could wake him up in the middle of the night, for all he cares. You could nudge him from the sleep that he so desperately needs, and he'd ask not a single question besides What do you need, darling? How would you like me?

What he doesn't expect is his own desire.

You're beautiful. You always have been beautiful. Even as things change, he was absolutely certain that you would never stop being beautiful.

It's you, so of course he's going to want you.

But seeing you now, whining and looking at him like he's hung the moon in the sky, specifically for you? Your tummy already growing round with the life that you've made together, visible proof of your love? Desperate whimpers falling past your lips, begging him for more, for him to fill you up again and again and again?

He can't resist you.

Even when he starts to ache, and his arms start shaking, and his throat is raw and dry from breathing hard and calling out for you.

He can't resist you.

You're insatiable.

So is he.

He's a little more careful as the months progress. Manhandling you less, digging his fingers into the soft fat of your hips a little gentler. He's cognizant of how you're most comfortable, watching in awe as you tremble on top of him, grinding down on him and taking his entire length into you like you were made specifically for him.

Nearly every day, you beg for him.

He loves you.

And when the time eventually comes for you to waddle carefully into the labour centre, meeting your midwife along the way, Viktor tries to keep his worrying quiet. Tries to stay by your side as a supportive pillar, regardless of how well or not he might actually be able to hold you up.

Holding your hand, kissing your knuckles. Trading his fingers for a stress ball when you squeeze a little too hard (and then another stress ball, stronger this time, when the first one explodes in your fist after a couple minutes. It shocks both of you, but to his surprise, you start laughing).

He tenderly dabs the sweat off your forehead as the hours go by, keeping your hairs from pasting themselves to your face and neck. Staying nearby as a source of comfort, but not so close that you feel smothered by him - allowing you the space you need to wiggle around as you see fit.

Telling you stories to distract you, listening to your complaints and observations as his words become unable to mask the pain of your contractions. Doing his absolute best to bite back a fond grin as you breathlessly curse him for doing this to you.

I didn't mean it, you tell him, as soon as the words leave your mouth, your eyes wide and tearful with sorrow.

I know, he promises, leaning forward to press his lips to your dewy skin.

You sigh happily.

It's not for another couple hours that your baby finally decides to enter the world.

You're beyond exhausted, and Viktor is starting to get fidgety with his worry. Is it supposed to be taking this long? he wonders internally, keeping his questions to himself so as not to stress you out even more.

The midwives, to their credit, are incredibly skilled. Staying by your side throughout the whole process, carefully monitoring everything they need to in order to make sure you're healthy. That the baby is healthy. He knows that they would say something, if anything was truly wrong.

And when the little one finally arrives, she does so kicking and screaming, making an absolute ruckus in the quiet room. The door is shut tight, keeping the sounds of the busy establishment at bay, and the curtain is drawn for your privacy so no one can see in when the staff come and go.

But when your girl begins shouting her absolute displeasure into the air, Viktor swears he can hear some quiet clapping and cheering from the hallway. He doesn't know if it's for your success, or for something and someone else entirely - but for a moment, he likes to believe that there are some strangers out there who are happy for him.

They don't know his story, and they don't know yours - but they've heard a great cry from somewhere hidden and full of struggle. An all-encompassing wail that confirms the presence of life, shouting to the world I am here, I am alive, and I have absolutely no idea what's going on!

He doesn't know when the tears start trailing down his cheeks.

Perhaps it's when he first lays eyes on your girl, pink and cranky and a little bit squished. Putting up a fuss on your base chest, scrunching her little face up as you speak softly and tenderly to her.

Perhaps it's when one of the midwives hands him a very soft towel, instructing him on how to carefully pat away the blood and fluid still clinging to your child. His eyes growing wide when he oh so gently cleans her off to reveal more of her tiny features.

She's still new, and needs time to decompress (so to speak), but he stares at her with such rapture. Taking in every inch of her, burning her face into his mind so that he might never forget her. Ever.

She's still new, and yet he can already tell that she has your nose. And your lips. Your smile, he realizes, with a palpable joy spreading through his chest.

His tears eventually dry, if only so he's able to better see you and the newest member of your family. Laying kiss after kiss to whatever part of your skin he can reach. Stroking the tips of his fingers over your girl's hair - her tiny arms and shoulders, her chubby cheeks, the bridge of her nose and over her brows.

But some two hours later, when you're finally allowed to rest in your comfortable hospital bed: when your baby is now dry and fed and swaddled up happily in Viktor's arms?

The tears begin again.

Privately, in the dim of the room, while you snooze a couple feet away from him, he weeps. Silently, and without so much as a sniffle. He cannot stop the wetness that rolls down his face, even if he wanted to.

Your girl is finally relaxed, after her grand, dramatic entrance. On the edge of sleep, warm and with a full tummy, making funny little expression while she dozes.

Much to Viktor's delight, she has a head of fuzzy brown hair - dishevelled and sticking in every direction, not matter how the midwives had tried to tame it. It'll settle down in a few days, they'd promised. But he didn't care.

The wild mop on top of her head rivalled the chaos of his own. The same shade of chestnut, though perhaps less coarse in texture. Maybe it will grow to the same thickness eventually, he thinks, a fond smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he imagines how much he's going to have to help her with it as she grows.

Brushing the inevitable tangles out with a soft brush. Pulling the strands back into braids so she can run around and play easier - or maybe little buns on the top of her head, he realizes, the image conjuring up in his mind.

All at once, pictures pop through his head, so vivid and bright that he can almost see them appearing in front of him.

Watching your daughter grow. Sleepless nights of taking care of her, catering to her every whim. Making sure she's fed, and comfortable - entertaining her with silly little toys that make silly little noises, bright colours painted across them. Reading her books with bright, enticing visuals for her to stare at, despite the fact that she doesn't know what words are.

Making trinkets for her as she gets a little older. Things that help her learn, but that also keep her excited and enticed, encouraging her exploration of the world around her. Teaching her to walk, by helping her strengthen her little legs. Sitting on a footstool, a wide smile on his face, as you hold her by her arms and support her as she figures out how to use her legs while upright. Leading her right over into his waiting arms.

Until she's able to balance on her own, after a number of weeks of practising together. Pushing herself up into a wobbly stance, doing her absolute best to try and balance. Maybe she stumbles a couple of times, but she's persistent -stubborn, like he is- and continuously rises back up until she's able to make it over to him on her own. Giggling and wiggling when he scoops her up and praises her and showers he in affection.

Teaching her about anything and everything, the bigger she gets. Answering every question she has, no matter how confusing or senseless - encouraging with his own suggestions, and prompting her to discover some answers for herself. Putting together little experiments for her, so they can learn together and so he can watch her eyes widen with the joy of new information.

Fixing her toys for her whenever they break, as she brings them to him with misty eyes and a wobbly bottom lip. Papa, it fell apart, she says sadly. To which he pulls her onto his lap, regardless of what work he was doing, and helps her repair the damage. Letting her watch and observe when she's still too small to hold a screwdriver, and carefully explaining things to her when her motor skills start to develop more.

And then helping her figure out in what way her toy broke, when she's a little bigger. Asking specific questions, so she can work to connect all the dots herself. Helping her gather the materials that she needs in order to fix things herself, and praising her to the high heavens when she presents the finished product to him.

The little thing is slightly lopsided, but he fully believes that it adds to its charm - tells her as such, when she sighs about it not being the same as before.

It's a little uneven, just like me, he says, with a laugh.

And, much to his complete shock, she wraps her little arms around him, and gives him her strongest possible squeeze.

It adds to your charm, she parrots back to him with complete honesty. I like you, Papa.

And once again, for the umpteenth time throughout his daughter's life, his eyes well with tears and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She could go anywhere she wanted, once she grew up. Learn anything, do anything, be anything. Perhaps she'd enjoy the sciences, like he does - machinery, and building, and designing, and inventing. Maybe she'd get into art, and spend her days painting or sketching, or writing, or making music - inspiring other people with the things she makes.

It doesn't matter, though. Because no matter what she ends up enjoying, or where she goes in her life, Viktor will support her with his entirety. Even when she grows all the way up, and inevitably leaves home to begin her own life, whatever that may be.

He knows he's going to cry then, too. So many years together, and yet it will still never be enough.

But for now, he sighs, staring adoringly down at the tiny infant in his arms. For now, they have time. He vows silently to never waste a single moment with her, and never pass up the opportunity to spend time with her. No matter how busy or frustrated or tired he gets, he won't let her grow up feeling unwanted or unloved or unimportant.

He'll give her a better life than he grew up with, and that is both a promise and a threat.

After all, he would do anything, for her.

His greatest creation.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor headcanons #viktor blurb #viktor reader insert #arcane reader insert #i am slowly rising from the dead whoops

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vasito-de-leche · 3 months

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Could we have some Zima relationship headcanons :]

;R1999 ZIMA - Relationship Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons about Zima in a romantic relationship.

ofc you can nonnie, ty for the request! Zima was the other character that got me into the game so he's very dear to me

also also, I'm not sick anymore so I have some steam to work on requests, hehe <3 still working on the sleepy fics though, don't worry yall!

I haven't done a proper analysis/HCs post on Zima yet, so as usual I'll be talking a little about his character before getting into the whole relationship aspect of things!

The portrayal of Zima as a stereotypical, shy introvert feels extremely reductive to me, especially when it's all attributed to his speech pattern - the pauses, the stuttering... None of it is an indication of timidness. We have to remember that Zima's native language, like many other characters, is not english and he struggles when speaking it. That's the reason he speaks in such a way, there's a language barrier he's constantly fighting against in order to communicate with others and yet he's clearly trying.

There's an emphasis on loneliness, isolation and avoidance in his character that is impossible to ignore, which seems to add to the whole portrayal of Zima as a "shy baby". But again, this is something that comes from an important part of his life - the exile he went through. Him being socially inept is a result of a punishment, years of being alone with no one but animals to keep him company. It doesn't come from a sense of inferiority or insecurity such as Charlie, but an absolute lack of human contact.

When examining his voicelines, we also see that he's opinionated - criticizing the Tsar and the poor living conditions of the people, speaking of the beauty of nature and so on and so forth. He explicitly writes poems on any surface like trees, rocks and snow, even if he knows they'll be washed away overtime.

I understand that it's extremely easy to dismiss Zima when it comes to romance because of all of these details, his isolating ways and all, but he's a poet first and foremost.

While he may not be romantic in the more traditional sense we're used to, he's extremely insightful and takes a lot of care to appreciate the small details that often go overlooked, but that make life feel more lively and rich. In the context of relationships, given his age and his lifestyle, Zima would bring a completely different type of vibe - for comparison, most of the characters I talked about already lean towards high emotions, the fun of discovering love for the first time, etc etc...

Pavia's love is a whole rollercoaster on his own because there's always the chance of either getting hurt or having the time of your life, Forget Me Not's feels exactly like being hungover in the morning. But Zima's love is more like coming home after a long trip, knowing there's a warm meal waiting for you. It's familiar and calm.

On the subject of Zima falling in love.

Zima is used to introspection, so I genuinely believe he has a strong sense of self and a good grasp on his emotions. He quickly realizes when he's fallen for someone and he accepts it easily, despite the lack of romantic interactions in his life. This is because the object of his affections is, most likely, someone he already cherishes, and who puts the effort into maintaining a good friendship with him - so the idea of being in love with them feels natural!

I can't see Zima pursuing romantic relationships with strangers and/or those outside his close circle, not even a surface attraction beyond artistic appreciation for someone's looks. He strikes me as the type who can only fall in love with those he trusts and knows.

And even then, his behaviour wouldn't change much!

It's obvious that he lacks friends, so the very few people he does have are extremely important to him - even so, Zima does not need to constantly orbit around them and will gladly spend days (and weeks if you don't actively seek him out) without seeing them, content to catch up with them whenever their paths cross. He shares what little he has to offer with everyone, practical things and knowledge. Zima is 100% that friend who disappears for months and returns as if nothing happened.

When it comes to you, it's the same. Sure, if you ask him to stay a little longer then he'll oblige you. And if you're the chatty type or find his work interesting, then he'll put the effort into having a conversation with you despite the language barrier. But that's about it, the changes aren't noticeable no matter how much he loves you, because all of that happens when no one is looking.

If you happen to stroll around in the wilderness, getting lost in the forest and all, then you might find your name carved on trees along with many, many poems. If you don't speak or read russian, then all you'll be able to recognize is your name - the very first thing Zima taught you in his native tongue - but these are all declarations of love.

The animals are kinder to you, curious even. They follow and treat you like an old friend, as if they knew you, because everything they've heard from you comes from Zima himself. They speak about everything and anything with him, after all.

Zima lacks the initiative to confess or even consider being in a proper relationship with you - I insist, he's genuinely content with being a close friend - but he also lacks the restraint to keep his feelings to himself and thus puts them on display in the only way he knows how: as a poorly kept secret between himself and the nature that surrounds him.

Not many think of him as a romantic because of how stoic he is, but when Zima is in love, he sees you in every flower, in the snowflakes that fall and kiss his nose. You're the gentle summer breeze and the crystal clear rivers once winter ends. You're right there beside him in spirit when he sees little chicks take flight for the first time, or when all the other forest critters wake up after hibernating. Zima finds beauty in every aspect of nature, and he sees you everywhere he looks.

That said, there's no way he'll take the first step. That's entirely up to you, to pick up all these things and confront him about it - that's the only time he'll be open and direct about his feelings. Because you already know how much you mean to him!

Zima would love to teach you his native language.

This is partially me projecting because english isn't my native language either, but I do like to think that Zima's english is all self-taught. He understands when others speak english, but isn't as fluent when speaking himself. And that's why it's sooo infuriating and frustrating for him, as a creative person and poet.

Not only because it's harder to communicate with others, but because his work and poems - the most important part of himself - can't be fully understood. Therefore HE can't be fully understood. Some translations, while good, can't even come close to their original meaning. As his partner, Zima wants you to understand the full depth of his affections and thoughts.

I do think that the process of learning would also be quite organic, starting with Zima simply pointing out at things and teaching you the way they're named in russian, basic stuff he does unconsciously. If you pick up things on your own from his work and his translations, Zima will be over the moon and would ask you to repeat yourself to make sure your pronunciation is right and because he loves the way his language sounds with your accent.

But if you approach and ask him to properly teach you? He's gone, instantly overwhelmed with emotion and thoughts racing in his head, trying to organize a million different things - what would be the best way to teach you? Should he start with the alphabet? You want to learn this brand new language to understand him better, that simple gesture is a huge deal for him.

Once you have a pretty good grasp on the language, at least enough to have basic conversations with him, it will feel like Zima has gotten a little bolder - addressing you with pet names, being generally more blunt and talkative... But in fact, he's just finally able to express himself in his totality.

This also goes the other way around - Zima would love to learn your own native language, whether it's english or something else. It's yet another language he can use to express himself, so it's a win-win. And I know that it's common for us multilingual people to start confusing and mixing all the languages we speak, but I think Zima would have an easy time keeping them apart, so to speak!

On the subject of Zima and how he acts when he's in a relationship.

You two were close friends before you were lovers, so Zima doesn't feel any sort of pressure to live up to some dating standards like fancy dates, gifts or grandiose displays of affections - once again, it's all about what feels natural. You two know each other more than enough to simply fall into a comfortable routine that works out for both.

He does make the effort to drop by more often, to find a middle ground until he feels more comfortable and used to being around large groups of people. But he would also insist that you accompany for his walks in search of inspiration for his work!

When it comes to showing affection, I think Zima might be a little touchstarved - casual physical contact such as someone hugging or patting him on the back as a greeting still catch him by surprise, but affectionate gestures with those he trusts and loves is a novelty that leaves Zima starry-eyed.

He has a lot of things that he needs to slowly get used to again now that he's not exiled in the middle of the woods, but having you shower him with affection is something that he grows to like rather quickly. When you pet him, pepper his face with kisses, hold his hand when walking or hug him - it doesn't matter, Zima will always stand there, fascinated with the way you make him feel, so very warm and safe.

He would appreciate a warning before being touched, and he always makes sure to ask before initiating anything himself - it doesn't matter how many times you tell him that you're fine with this sort of contact, he's going to ask for permission anyway. Just out of politeness. Personal space is important, after all.

I think Zima would try to stick to a routine he can follow without overwhelming himself, especially if you're the type to need more attention (again, Zima will literally disappear for weeks if left to his own devices). It's more of a short list of things he needs to remember to do before the day is over, the two most important ones being greeting you in the morning and wishing you goodnight.

As for more general aspects of a relationship, I don't think there's much to say! Arguments with him rarely happen because he's patient and careful with his words, he communicates his needs and boundaries as well as he respects yours and all. Zima isn't that talkative, but his more "eccentric" traits are something you're probably used to on account of that initial bond and trust.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 headcanons #reverse 1999 zima #basically zima is emotionally mature and responsible so hes OBJECTIVELY the safest option out of all guys if youre looking for a partner #the worst thing that can happen is that he just forgets to tell you that he needs time alone to cool off and he disappears for 2 weeks #BUT YOU KNEW THAT WHEN YOU SIGNED UP TO BE HIS BUDDY SO ITS FINE #i got very fluffy with this one bc i love him so much okay no one look t me #hes not a baby hes a grown ass man!!!! but hes so cute!!!!! and i wanna kiss him!!!!!!!!#i wanna do a post analyzing him and all but my god. i dont know nearly enough abt russian history to even GO there

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solsays · 5 months

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Secret life spoilers//

I’ve seen people saying that Scar is the earth and others saying scar is the eclipse and here are my thoughts on it because holy shit was that an ending

i like the eclipse thing, but here’s the thing: Grian never directly helped scar. He took thirty-five hearts off Gem, yeah, but I know that Impulse and Scott accidentally hit her a couple times in that chaos too. This is one of the first seasons they’ve not had any sort of alliance/enemy thing, and honestly they didn’t interact a ton. While I love the idea in concept, i also feel like it’s good to separate Scar as his own character rather than just as on half of desertduo (this isn’t to say I don’t adore desertduo, i do, i just think a lot of times they’re lumped together and it’s often all they are seen for but their characters are so much more in depth)

and the Pearl thing is cool, the moon helping him to the end. She never really fought back, either

the cool part about the eclipse is the hiding of scar’s dark side. He’s bright and welcoming and friendly, until he’s not. Then it’s any man’s game, and he will not hesitate to slaughter someone in his path.

but here’s my thoughts on the earth

scar tried to be good. He tried, he wanted desperately to be kind and good and everything he saw others as. But the secret keeper wrote him a villain, and he ended up taking on that role. He simply wanted to grow beauty, to provide for others, but in the end outside forces caused him to falter. Earth tries to grow, but is wracked by natural disasters out of its control that cause it to fracture. It eventually turns on the very things it once sought to bring life to, playing all cards until you realize it was never playing any at all, like a fire; it warms, but can burn and destroy if pushed too far. Merely biding time, like an earthquake or a volcano. The warning tremors before the culmination.

but after it all, he was still kind. He was still good, despite it all. He died thanking those who helped him to where he was; he refused to kill Pearl even when she begged him to take her life for the bonus hearts. He had no alliances, but he certainly had friends. he never did quite know how to be alone. He didn’t even realize he won until he was told “she’s dead Scar. You won”. He was told by the sun, like the dawn, that the moon who he kept in his orbit was gone. And his first thought was “how did the guy with no friends win?” because in the end, earth is a lover, not a fighter.

i saw someone else say the earth is lonely as well, as the only planet with such a massive span of life. It’s constantly with things, but remains alone, separate by circumstance, which I think is a really fucking awesome point too :) feel free to disagree, I’m just saying earth is my vote (also the motif of flowers in his skins this season—sunflowers, poppies, lilacs)

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bloodynectarine · 1 year

Text

And yet, here I am, yearning

Lucifer experiences what he (belatedly) recognizes as heartbreak in the middle of one of Diavolo's parties.

tags. gender-neutral mc, angst, missed opportunities, (kinda but not really) one-sided lucifer x mc, implied mammon x mc.

notes. today i bring you pain. tomorrow? who knows. i tried to write lucifer's sin getting in the way of his feelings for you. also, for this one to work, mc refused to attend any parties for quite a while upon arriving to the devildom.

Lucifer has been playing host along Diavolo all night long, and he can already feel his face hurt. Being on his best behavior was exhausting; as if demons were anything but cunning.

Half of the guests are here in a poor attempt to get on Diavolo's good side, and the other half just want to get a peek of the new inhabitant of the House of Lamentation. “Have you heard? That human is here”, an oblivious demon whispers to him, only to disappear just as fast, clearly in a hurry upon realizing who exactly was he talking to.

Of course Lucifer has heard.

His eyes scan the sea of people, searching between green, purple, and red garments, until spotting you in your bold white and gold suit. Even if you weren't the star of the show already, heads would've been turning your way with just your attire, such a daring choice. How fitting.

And just as last week when you tried the suit on for the first time and excitedly broke into his office for a little fashion show, you look… angelic.

The white makes you look exquisite under the light of the chandeliers, and each one of the multiple accessories you are drowned in is tastefully done.

They work as a warning, of course; not just anyone in the Devildom can wear jewelry of such a deep gold as the one in the choker that covers your throat, in the pins that hold your hair in place and in the multiple rings around your fingers. They speak of power.

But they also speak of love.

It's subtle, in the way it would've been impossible for you to stylize your hair alone, or to get into the intricate suit on your own without ending up looking like a mess. Everything about the ensemble you're wearing speaks of someone caring for you enough to handpick everything, to make sure you look perfect.

And if Lucifer remembers correctly (and he knows he does), Mammon was the one who stood by you every step of the way. He didn't even let Asmo step in for the makeup, or listened to Satan's advice for color and styling. How unusual of him, he thought at the time, to want to shoulder all the responsibility instead of leaving all the work to somebody else.

Looking at you now, he gets it. Everything about you screams Mammon, so it's no surprise to see him stuck by your side. He looks so pleased: the pins in his hair and yours match perfectly.

The second born seems to have a knack for holding your attention. Right now he's practically shielding you with his body while the both of you talk, taking over your personal space, getting closer than you would have allowed him to just a few weeks ago.

Uneasiness settles in his gut. When did you start to lean in instead of flinching away?

While he can tell you've warmed up to every single one of his brothers, your relationship with Mammon went from strangers to attached to the hip in what seems like the blink of an eye.

The two of you are a lot to handle when you are together.

You've encouraged Mammon's impulsive nature with your ride-or-die disposition, always ready to take part in his (often stupid, often insane) plans, orbiting around him.

In return, you can do no wrong in Mammon's eyes. He is the fire to your fuel, just as ready to indulge you, craving ―and lately demanding― every bit of your attention.

It's true that upon your arrival, Lucifer decided to trust you in Mammon's care, convinced that the two of you would at least work around each other…

He greets each guest that moves past him with a barely-there smile, and a nod of his head, not doing much more than acknowledging their presence, preoccupied with keeping an eye on you.

And that's why he sees it, almost in slow-motion, how your hand moves to tuck a strand of hair behind Mammon's ear. It wasn't even out of place to begin with.

Leaving you in his care, he expected Mammon to be willing to help, as always. He was ready for him to slowly put his bravado aside, to bond with you, to call you a friend, maybe. But he never expected… this.

This feeling, that's tearing his chest apart. This urge, to reach for your hands and hold them prisoners in his. The desire, to come impossibly close and ask you, with all the pride of a petulant child, why him?

And not me?

The revelation is such that he feels himself tremble from head to toe.

How long has it been? When did he start to wish to take you away and keep you for himself? Has this feeling always been there, doomed, since the very first time he saw you? Or has it slowly crept into him, catching him at the worst of times, when it's already too late?

He remembers, he does, how in the beginning you always sought him out, to talk, for help, just to be near him. Your eyes full of stars, of wonder, every single time you looked at him. When did you start to move out of his reach?

Was he… the one to push you away? With his elusive nature, always distrusting, with the one hundred and one walls that surround him at all times. Has he ever… let you in?

Last week. What exactly did he said to you when you showed him the suit? You were clearly looking for praise.

He asked you to step outside, didn't he. Stop interrupting me in my working hours, MC.

What was your expression like, back then? Did he make you sad, upset? He didn't even remem--

“Lucifer, old friend, how are you enjoying the party? Does the demonus suit your tastes?”

Lucifer makes sure to set his cup down on the table before answering, adjusting his expression with practiced calm. If his shaking hands are too noticeable, Diavolo doesn't mention them.

And even if in his shock he hasn't taken a single sip, he answers, with a probably crooked smile. “Bitter. It's a little bitter.”

By the time he looks up and across the ballroom, you and Mammon are already long gone.

ao3 ― writing tag

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carionto · 5 months

Text

Another Happy Landing

Space!

It's huge!

Like, beyond words and stuff.

So anyway, people want to get to places that are far away, BUT they also don't want to wait for months and centuries to get to those places that are really REALLY REALLY REEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLY far away.

But then there's this jerk called Physics, you know, total rules lawyer, nobody likes them, but their dad is God, and just generally a total Karen when you try something they didn't think of before. Real party-pooper. Meanwhile, you're just a guy named Greg. With a bad knee and student debt. And your wife left for Chad. She found a nice beauty resort and booked a three week experience. She'll bring back souvenirs. If she remembers. Which she won't, just like the last three times. But it's okay, you've got a bucket of ice cream and the entire TNG series loaded up. Not the movies though, you're trying to erase them from your mind.

Back to Greg. Wait, no - Physics.

Today, Captain Knoslark and his advanced research ship - The Radiant Dusk at Everest (and crew) are going to give that snotty brat the middle finger.

For today, marks the beginning of a new era of space travel. One that barely involves using space at all. Time either. We're just gonna bypass those two pesky nuisances and finally freely go from one point in the Universe to another!

Combining our research into Warp technology, which essentially just uses a Fuck Huge amount of power to rip a hole in Time-Space, with the surprising developments into short range teleportation by an independent facility, as well as [insert favorite brand of gobbledygook], we will finally overcome the issue of getting spaghetified and/or transported into the center of a star!

Champagne for everyone!

All that's left is to fire up the miniature star reactors, crank the output to 400%, and bask in the applause!

"This is your Captain speaking. Hello everyone! I'm excited! Fire it up! LET'S GOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

With the message clear, the crew continued to do what they were doing. You know, following procedure and guidelines, of which there were, admittedly, less than normal given this is the first full test of this nature. it'll be fine. They said igniting a miniature star inside a reactor would blow up the whole planet, but it only took out a 200km chunk of it once, not that big a deal.

The energetic smile and tense grip of the railings Knoslark held on to for the subsequent forty minutes without letting up for a single second. It kinda got a little creepy, but the crew will never drop their poker face in front of him. They won't give him that victory.

Anyway. Again. The final step of the sequence has finally arrived and all that's left to do is for Knoslark to push the big red button on his data pad. Which he did immediately and with the most dramatically long winded motion his body could produce - swinging his whole arm from the back, over his head, and stopping just before slamming the button with his fist to gently extend his pinky finger to lightly tap on the button.

A brilliant black light in a perfect sphere engulfed the whole ship and then they were gone.

Immediately afterwards, just slightly above the surface of an unknown planet in orbit of an uncharted system in a galaxy that has a grand total of two entries across all databases. It's name - TPSC-SY398-2250074, and age relative to what the Milky Way can see - 1.8 billion years. None of that matters.

What does matter is that this planet has a new crater with a stupidly huge piece of junk lying in the middle of it. Mostly intact. Actually, who am I kidding, it's our well known Human engineering we're talking about here, the only problem is that it crashed sideways and a few fires sprung up, no worse than an overly exciting game night turned drinking party.

"Well, that was unexpected. Everyone good? Can we upright The Dusk?" Knoslark inquired right after climbing his way out of a pile of chairs, loose equipment, and three crewmen. Sergeant Ying Zhao emerged from from behind him, dusted off, relocated his shoulder, and grunted. "Seems so. Engineering - what's your status?"

"Minor leakage of non-essentials, two reactors stopped purring, could use a nap, don't let the captain say it and we'll be good." replied Chief Engineer Ira Tameki over the comms. "Negative, Ira, he's got the look already." "Groan for the two of us then." "Roger that." "Not you too..." "Sorry."

As the reports of minor damage, light injuries, and general mess came in, Captain Knoslark was pleased with the results.

"Excellent work everyone. Everyone's alive and The Dusk still works. You know as they say - another happy landing!" Knoslark said, with a big dumb grin.

youtube

"So anyway, where are we?"

Continues->

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto #story #scifi #Youtube

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csainz5 · 1 year

Text

THE AFTERPARTY

pairing: carlos sainz jr x reader

word count: 0.8k

summary: you and carlos have a rendezvous after his win at the spanish grand prix. who knows what would happen when youre so close to each other? as the drinks keep pouring you may just find out. ( this can be read as a part 2 to “smooth operator: emphasis on the smooth” as well as by itself)

author notes: im overwhelmed by the response to my first ever tumblr post!! i hope you enjoy this as much as the first one, maybe even more so 🫣

The crowd erupted with cheers as he stepped out of his car, a broad smile plastered across his handsome face. As the evening sun cast its golden glow over the racetrack, the celebrations had began.

The after party was a glamorous affair, filled with champagne, laughter, and the pulsating rhythm of music. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the thrill of the race and the presence of the Formula 1 stars. Among the many revelers was you, standing apart although in a simple black slip-on dress with rhinestones on the sleeves. Your heart skipped a beat when you caught sight of Carlos across the room. He looked even more breathtaking under the glow of the red lights, his dark hair tousled and his eyes sparkling with mischief. He moved with a natural grace, drawing the attention of everyone around him.

Gathering your courage, you approach him, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Carlos noticed the shy smile on your face and returned it warmly. "Hola," he greeted, his voice smooth and filled with genuine warmth. "Hi," you reply, voice slightly breathless. "Congratulations on the race, Carlos. You were amazing out there."

Carlos's grin widened, revealing his contentment with the compliment. "Gracias, I'm glad you enjoyed it. It means a lot to hear that from you rather than anyone else here." He raised his glass, offering a toast. "Shall we celebrate together, then?" You nod, your hand trembling slightly as it clinked against Carlos's champagne flute. Carlos's words seemed to flow effortlessly, making you feel as though you were the only two people in the room.

As the night wore on, the conversation became more intimate. Carlos leaned in closer, his voice becoming a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the magnetic pull between the both of you, a simmering tension that made your hearts race. Lost in the moment, you found yourself drawn into Carlos's orbit. Your bodies moved in perfect harmony on the dance floor, the rhythm of the music mirroring the connection you felt. The touch of Carlos's hand on your waist sent sparks of desire coursing through your veins. “Carlos” you whimper, breathless.

Unable to resist your voice, Carlos leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss. It was a passionate embrace, filled with longing, as if he had been thinking about doing this to you since the instant he saw you. Your bodies pressed against each other, fitting together like two puzzle pieces.

In that moment, the two of you forgot about the world around you. You were consumed by the intensity of your desire, the electric chemistry that sizzled between you both. Carlos's hands explored your body with a reverence and hunger that left you weak in the knees. His hand pulled you in by the waist as he settled himself against the railing of the balcony. The fiery passion between the two of you was apparent in the way you held each other close, breathing heavily but at the same time, barely breathing. The intensity of his desire seemingly knocked the wind out of you. You place a hand against his chest, pulling apart from his embrace, “Not here Carlos, there’s people around”

For a moment, Carlos finds himself unable to answer, trying his best to be rational as thoughts plague his mind. Thoughts of you, and how you would look as he— Focus Carlos, Focus. he thought to himself, trying to regain his composure. “Yes, of course”, he brings himself to answer. “Perhaps we should go get ourselves a drink by the bar” you suggest, “Yes, perhaps we should.” he replied. His eyes follow you as you lead him through the crowd to the bar. “two white rums, on the rocks” You order. “I hope you don’t mind i ordered on your behalf, i just had a feeling you would enjoy it.” “No worries, i look forward to trying it out.”

The booming sound of the music, the lights and the drinks set a mood in the club, a mood that was eating the two of you inside out. It became harder and harder to remain rational. It all drowned into a blur of stolen kisses and whispered promises in a drunken haze. You and Carlos had found solace in each other's arms, bodies entwined in a passionate embrace. The connection was undeniable, like a flame that burned brighter with every touch.

Carlos held you close, your bodies still humming with desire. His hands brushed your hair out of your eyes, settling along your face, cupping your cheek. He looked into your eyes, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and longing. "Mi vida," he murmured, his voice husky, "I don't want this night to end. Will you stay with me?"

#carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x reader #suggestive #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fanfiction #smooth operator

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bupia · 8 months

Note

yo regarding the headcanons, could you maybe perhaps do headcanons for the Papas where reader is just very energetic, expressive and smiley :D I talk a lot, and also with my hands so I thought this could be a cute idea! no pressure tho <3

I think this is absolutely the cutest idea ever!

Thank you for your request, I hope you like it.

Primo

Primo, possesses a striking and commanding presence. Dressed in his regal attire, with a flowing dark robe, ornate mitre, and skull-painted face, would give the idea that he is very authoritative and hard to get-along;

However, Primo is actually gentle and lovely. This figure was just hidden beneath his imposing exterior;

He is known for his profound empathy and kindness by some few people inside of the Ministry, especially you;

Primo's true essence is that of a compassionate and loving soul. His ability to balance his imposing stage presence with genuine kindness makes him a beloved figure;

He always payed attention to your behavior when you were walking around with the other siblings, your energy was certainly contagious even when you weren't talking directly to him;

In private moments, Primo would ask you to keep talking, filling the room with your energy. It would make him feel young, you would bring him the energy he thought he had lost;

His voice, usually deep and powerful on stage, transforms into a soothing and comforting tone whenever he talks to you;

And don't think you would be the only one talking in the room, Primo would always have something to add or tell you, especially if he knew that whatever he had to say to you, would make you happy. He knows exactly what to say to see your eyes shining with excitement.

Secondo

Secondo is known for his stern and authoritative demeanor. He has a regal and solemn presence;

He enjoys the silence. Not that he doesn't talk, but he prefers to not be bothered at all;

He works in silence, he eats in silence, he walks in silence and even his replies are silently;

The most part of his day, only some few words would be heard and most part of them would be just a grunt or short Italian sentences;

When you started your new life in the Ministry, poor Secondo, he had a hard time;

You would see him walking on the corridors and follow him asking things about the Ministry and other things you'd want to know;

He'd likely observe your energetic behavior with a raised eyebrow, not entirely sure how to handle your exuberance;

But, at every question, he would respond with a calm, measured tone and occasionally interject to steer the conversation toward another topic;

And then, one day, he found himself listening attentively to your lively conversation;

As you two continued to interact, he gradually warms up to your enthusiasm;

Initially, he would try to maintain a composed demeanor, but a subtle, appreciative smile would eventually break through;

Occasionally gesture with his own hands, trying to match your energy;

He'd nod along to your animated conversation, occasionally chuckling at your infectious enthusiasm, and that was the first time you heard his laugh;

And for the first time in years, Secondo would stop being a fan of the silence.

Terzo

Terzo, known for his suave and charming demeanor, would appreciate your energetic behavior;

He is a true charmer, exuding a magnetic allure that draws people into his orbit;

He is a Papa with a striking contrast between his onstage flamboyance and his offstage complexity;

His elaborate outfits, makeup, and passionate vocals all contribute to his captivating stage persona. His deep, expressive eyes, have a way of making anyone feel special when he gazes at them;

However, he was already described in the past as a deeply introspective and often lonely figure;

When confronted with someone who is energetic, talkative, always smiling, Terzo would respond with curiosity and caution;

Deep down, he may also feel a sense of longing for the genuine connection and warmth that you exudes;

Your expressive nature may remind him of the joy and vibrancy he often yearns for in his life;

He'd appreciate your energy and might even encourage you to share more stories and anecdotes;

He finds your enthusiasm absolutely endearing and contagious. He'd be delighted by your expressiveness and smile in response;

But also, this would be the opportunity to engage in witty and flirtatious banter;

Terzo would relish in your chatter, listening intently to every word, and responding with compliments and charming remarks;

With a debonair smile, he'd occasionally join in on your hand gestures, using grand gestures and theatrical expressions to complement your energy;

For Terzo, your expressiveness is charming and he would share witty remarks to keep the conversation light and enjoyable;

Your interaction would be a captivating blend of wit, energy, and underlying emotional depth.

Copia

Copia stands out not only for his ecclesiastical vestments but also for his playful and approachable demeanor;

He might respond with a subtle smile or a knowing glance, occasionally interjecting with cryptic comments;

However, Copia has a mischievous streak, often sharing puns, dad jokes, and silly one-liners with a twinkle in his eye.

When he encounters someone who is just like him, Copia couldn't be happier;

His voice carries an infectious enthusiasm just like yours;

Copia, would likely adapt to the situation and mirror your energy;

He'd wear a warm smile and would reciprocate with animated gestures and an endless stream of playful chatter, sometimes even incorporating puns and jokes into the conversation;

Copia finds you boundless energy and expressiveness utterly endearing;

He would feel an instant connection with you, finding your energy contagious and your expressive nature utterly charming;

He might even encourage you to share more stories and anecdotes to keep the conversation lively;

Copia would likely share his own stories encouraging laughter and light-heartedness between your interaction;

Your interaction would be filled with laughter, warmth, and a shared love for all things dorky and fun.

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midgardian-witch · 4 months

Text

(No) Invitation Needed

It's been a few decades since you last saw your ex but now he is in your club wanting you back. You really shouldn't give into it but eternity can be so lonely.

ships: Anselm Vogelweide/Reader

word count: 1.8k

AN: So this got inspired by this tag game and what come out of that was this. I hope people enjoy it and if my brain keeps on this track who knows maybe I'll write more vampire!Anselm with vampire!reader (something along the lines of what i mentioned here). Also a big thank you to @strangerhands for encouraging my vampire!Anselm brain worms and for being an amazing hype person 💙

AO3

The bass is thrumming through your body. In this crowd of people you are one of many - and all of you are one. The music guides your bodies with its rhythm. The beat is your new heartbeat - an invigorating yet nostalgic feeling. The scent of sweat, of blood, of life permeates the air around you. It's been so long since you have felt this alive.

Your presence pulls the dancers around you into your orbit. They don't even notice that their movements, the sway of their hips, they all follow your lead as they fall into a trance. You are their center even if they don't know why. You are magnetic, irresistible and they are yours. This is your haven, your club, your hunting ground.

But you are not the only predator here tonight.

You sense him even before you see or smell him - an aura of authority, cultivated through eons of survival, that you once knew so intimately.

Your rhythm falters, your spell broken for just a second but it's enough for the crowd to fall out of step. The connection to them is lost but he is still here, encroaching on your territory. With your eyes closed you turn your senses towards him. He's already inside the club, not amongst the crowd of mortals but lurking at the fringes of the dance floor. You must have been too tuned into the crowd to hear his unwieldy leg brace through the music.

You open your eyes and leave the dance floor, the sea of people parting instinctively to let you pass through. You feel his eyes on you, his gaze almost scorching you as if you came to him unbidden and uninvited and not the other way around.

As you step out of the crowd your eyes find him immediately. He looks so out of place, his suit and tie unfit for a nightclub like this. In this outfit you'd imagine him at a charity gala for the rich and famous or a funeral. You have to fight the smile off of your lips at the mental image of him at a rave. He'd never get the UV-paint out of his beard.

You see his beard twitch, his lips curling into a smile of his own at your sight. Your eyes meet and you see a softness in them that feels like a dagger through your heart. How dare this bastard be happy to see you like you were long lost friends and not-

You shake off your thoughts, not wanting to dwell on the past for too long. With a nod of your head you motion him to follow you. Without looking back you leave the dance floor and walk up the stairs to the more quiet bar area. You pass the security personnel and enter the VIP area only reserved for yourself and your personal guests. It's a small yet comfortable space, a stark contrast to the more brutalist design of the club itself.

You sink into your seat, a leather couch dyed in your favorite color, and take a deep breath. It's unnecessary - oxygen is not vital to your survival, hasn't been in quite a while, but the motion still brings you some comfort.

You don't look at him as he enters the space soon after, the ear-piercing screech of his leg brace announcing him like a bad omen. You motion your security to leave you two alone and only once they are out of earshot do you let your gaze linger on the man now sitting before you. To your chagrin he looks good. Naturally he hasn’t aged a day and neither have you. Confidently he holds your gaze as you study him. He is completely silent, waiting for you to initiate the conversation. Not out of politeness, you know him better than to think that, but to judge how you react to his sudden appearance. You recognize his manipulation tactics easily, the way he tries to unsettle you with his mere presence. He is subtle but you know him - knew him.

“Anselm,” you address him, your voice firm, “To what do I owe the displeasure of your visit?” His lips curl into a smile, ruffling his well kept beard. He chuckles darkly and leans forward, his glasses slipping a little down his shapely nose in the process. “I missed your sharp tongue,” he answers, and his heavy accent makes your stomach turn. How you ever found comfort in his voice you can’t recall. “I doubt you came all the way here without an invitation just so I can insult you. I know your cravings have always been particular but that seems even beyond you,” you counter, crossing your arms in front of yourself defensively. “Hmmm, maybe, maybe not,” he hums, his eyes sparkling with mirth, “But I have missed you. I see you made a name for yourself here, so far from home. Success suits you. It always has.” You snort and shake your head in response. Flattery will not get him anywhere. “I am being honest. Don’t insult your own intelligence. I know you’d recognize if I was lying.”

“If that is all you came here to say then you can keep your flattery, Anselm.”

He nods slowly, a few strands of hair falling into his face before he runs a hand through it to pull them back into place. “You are still cross with me; I understand. Our kind holds grudges far longer and far more deeply than that lot could ever imagine,” he motions towards the dancing crowd below as he drivels on. When you first met Anselm centuries ago you thought he might have been an eccentric professor, his way of speech so odd yet so intriguing, pulling you in to listen with ease. You still don’t know if that is purely him or a skill he acquired after his death. You hold up a hand to stop his rant, otherwise you might never get another word in.

“I enjoy repeating myself just as much as you do. So I will only ask this one more time: Why are you here?”

His brow furrows as his face contorts into a grimace. “Now now, I already answered that question. You just didn’t accept my answer,” he replies, his voice turning darker, rougher. His emotions have always been like a live wire, dangerous and deadly if handled incorrectly. You lean back, unbothered by his approaching outburst. “So that’s it? You missed me insulting you so much you came running all the way from the old world to get your fix?”

He squints at you, one eye hidden by the milky gold-tinted glass of his spectacles. You prepare yourself for his anger, to be cursed out and threatened but the expected outburst never comes. Instead he wets his lips and smiles. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy your skilled tongue but that is not why I came here. It’s so simple it’s almost boring,” his tone of voice has lost its edge as he addresses you again, “I missed you, mein Schatz.”

You flinch at the old pet name, “Don’t call me that.” He raises his hands in defense and stands up, giving you the illusion of space. “I don’t mean to offend,” he says softly and walks over to you, “But I will admit that I had hoped that you’d feel the same.” Of course he did. Leave it to Anselm to completely ignore how terribly you had fought even before you parted ways in favor of some glorified memory of a doomed romance. You hadn’t forgotten how ugly both of you had become by the end of it. Decades of affection and love that had turned to spite, cruelty and bloodshed, again and again.

You shake your head with a sigh, “Anselm, I-” but before you can speak he shushes you as he sits down next to you. “We were so good together, mein Schatz. Powerful, rich, influential. I know you have your own little realm now but you must admit it is nothing compared to what we had built together.” A haven built on bloodshed and fear, the mortals under your care treated like nothing more than sacks of blood, alliances forged through blackmail, threats and manipulation. You had built your own little empire with Anselm as its king and you by his side. It thrilled you as much as it terrified you and you grimace at the memories his words conjure.

Anselm moves closer, his chest brushing your arm as he leans into you. “Don’t you remember how we made love with the blood of our enemies on our lips? You always looked best in red,” his voice rumbles through his chest. He is so close, his scent filling your nostrils, so familiar it almost makes your head spin. “You were so violent every time we fought, so passionate! I’ll never forget the feeling of your nails cutting me open, your tongue digging into the open wound so you could drink my blood. Or when I would whip you until you bled and lick your sweet nectar off of the floor.” His voice turns more and more into a growl the longer he reminisces. The sound makes you shiver as much as the memories are.

“Anselm, please, I-”

“Don’t you miss it, mein Schatz? Don’t you miss us?”

His hand finds yours, his thumb running feather-light circles over your skin. His lips brush the shell of your ear. “Don’t you miss me?” Your whole body shudders. He is too close, he smells too good and he is making you want.

To want his lips and his body against yours, to crave the feeling of his fangs in your flesh, your nails in his back, to consume each other until there is nothing left - it’s fatal. You know better. You know that this will end in nothing but ruin not just for those around you but for you and him. You bring out the worst in eachother, always have. But what you fear, Anselm revels in.

So why does the worst sound so good from his lips?

“We shouldn’t,” you whisper as you turn your head towards him. His eyes are blazing, burning your very soul with need. “You want it,” he responds, “Say it, mein Schatz. Tell me that you want it. That you need it. Need me.”

His lips brush yours, his beard tickling your face. You gasp, an unearthly longing gripping your heart.

“I do. I want you,” you murmur against his lips before you give up. His other hand grabs your face and he pulls you into a kiss. You feel hungry, so hungry that all the blood in the world couldn’t satisfy you. Because it’s not blood you crave.

Before you give into him completely you lean back just enough to speak. “Just this once. Just one time, Anselm. This doesn’t mean anything.” He looks at you knowingly, a sardonic smirk on his face. “Of course, mein Schatz. Just tonight.” You know he doesn’t believe you. You don’t even believe yourself.

Especially not when his tongue enters your mouth and he devours you.

#anselm vogelweide #anselm vogelweide/reader #anselm vogelweide x reader #vampire!anselm vogelweide #vampire!reader #big gold brick #anselm vogelweide fanfic #fran-writes

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mitschki · 24 days

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Jealous!Tartaglia, accustomed to being the center of attention, grows frustrated by her lack of focus on him.

The Eleventh Harbinger would never consciously dwell on another person’s lack of attention, considering it inconsequential given his status. However, unbeknownst to him— he finds himself subtly perturbed at the sight of you engaged in conversation with someone else from a distance.

Positioned outside Liyue's Northland Bank, he stands with arms crossed against the red railings, observing you amidst the bustling streets of Liyue. Despite his composed exterior, an undercurrent of frustration manifests as he grits his teeth, silently grappling with his unexpected reaction.

He was acquainted with you as a friend— Zhongli, the consultant from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, would occasionally broach the subject of you during their tea sessions. Tartaglia would emit a noncommittal hum and furrow his brow in response to Zhongli's insightful observations about you.

Perhaps he harbored a subtle discomfort with your perceived closeness to Zhongli compared to himself. Maybe that it was during these conversations that his interest in you began to pique. He would then find himself observing you more closely, noting your bright and welcoming aura, which seemed to effortlessly draw others into your orbit.

Your consistently friendly nature stood in stark contrast to his own, with the mere notion of harboring no ill intentions appearing almost foreign to him. Maybe that it was the stark differences between your personalities that sparked his admiration for you. No, he wouldn’t say admiration. He didn’t like the thought of it, at least. He would evidently dismiss that idea.

But was it imperative for you to laugh so much around that person? Or to extend them your attention? Perhaps it was the way you delicately twirled strands of your hair between your fingers, or the radiant and expansive smile that graced your countenance with each spoken word. With a roll of his eyes and a furrowed brow, he averted his gaze, expressing his discontent in a restrained manner.

"Sir, we humbly request your presence inside," one of the Fatui agents addressed, bowing his head in deference to Tartaglia's esteemed position. Tartaglia emitted a slight scoff in response before gracefully acquiescing, parting from his current observation point to proceed inside the bank.

As the evening descended, the tantalizing aroma of Liyue's cuisine permeated the bustling streets. Tartaglia found himself scanning the area for food, his hunger gnawing at him and his mood souring. There was nothing more unsettling than encountering a hungry and disgruntled Harbinger, his perturbed aura too palpable for passersby to ignore. He scoffed at the wary glances directed his way; usually, he might have taken pride in the acknowledgment of his presence. However, in his current state, such recognition failed to bring him any satisfaction.

"Excuse me, sir, are you going to buy that?” a familiar voice inquired from behind. Tartaglia's eyes widened as he turned to see you, a soft smile adorning your face as you pointed towards the last grilled fish. Ah, of course, he had been standing there lost in contemplation for quite some time, deliberating over his feelings on the fish. Perhaps he didn't pay much attention to the people behind him, who were patiently waiting for their turns to make purchases.

Tartaglia nervously chuckled, stepping aside, “Oh! Forgive me, too much on my mind," he apologized, guiding his hands towards the fish. "You can have it," he offered with a smile. Despite hours of feeling upset over you, he couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness. The complexity of his emotions in that moment left him feeling somewhat foolish. You responded with a soft laugh at his gesture.

"Let me buy this for you then, sir," you offered graciously, your smile radiant, “food eases thoughts!" You brimmed with enthusiasm as you paid the vendor and turned to him, extending the last grilled fish. A subtle blush crept onto his face as he took in the sight of you standing before him, your sweet smile warming his heart as you offered the fish.

Such a sweet girl. In response, he grinned as he remarked, "You are a remarkable person,” with a soft chuckle, smiling upon noticing a gentle blush spreading across your face.

“And you, sir, must be hungry.”

Perhaps your interaction was precisely what he needed. Your friendly nature that contrasted to his own, was what left him grappling with his own emotions and his understanding of you. Perhaps if you allowed him to immerse himself in your world, he would be more receptive to your warm shared perspectives.

#genshin impact #Genshin #tartaglia #childe #Zhongli #morax #genshin morax

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homoeroticbetrayal · 1 year

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Iconic Homoerotic Betrayal: Round 2

Round 2 Directory

Context:

Akechi/Joker

Summarized by Anonymous Contributor

Ok so Akira(you the player) are the leader of a group of thieves (who are doing good for society) but there are more sinister things happening that also get attributed to your group.

Enter Akechi the famous charismatic detective who’s declared that he will catch you(you can probably already guess where this is going) When you first meet him it is already clear that something is very wrong under that obviously fake smile. Under your civilian identity you befriend him and slowly(or rather fast) he opens up to you showing more of his true self and what pains his heart. Even disclosing sensitive information that could bring him down. Of course this is all just lies he made up to get close to you right? Nope.

You see the betrayal coming from miles ahead. Not only does he betray you, he’s been the real culprit all along.

Despite knowing this loooong ahead you still take him on little gay dates to the aquarium, public bathhouse, pretending to shoot eachother, a café or try to impress him with your amazing darts skills. You may even willingly make wrong choices just for his approval (I did gdi Akechi I trusted you.) And when you come home he's already waiting for you.

After you survive him gleefully shooting you through the head(it makes sense in context) you meet again he admits that he wishes you’d have met earlier, confirming that your bond was genuine, that you could’ve been friends/partners(? It’s complicated) and he really meant it when he said you’re the only one he feels at ease with. But not without having a truly unhinged meltdown about it first, vehemently rejecting your offer to still be friends and turn over a new leaf. (so after he's attempted to kill you at least 2 times and is gearing up for making it 3)

Akechi betraying you is as much a betrayal of himself as it is one of you.

Bonus points:

other characters comment on you being the only one close to him

during one rank he confesses to you…. His hate?

as previously mentioned, your relationship ranks up after he shoots you in the head(you survive, it make sense in context)

he himself compares his betrayal of you to romance(yes after shooting you through the head). On live tv. In the same moment he reminds himself how he’s felt unwanted his entire life, like a reminder he killed the only person who ever made him wanted.

At the end you have the choice to stay in a perfect world where he is alive and never underwent any of the pain in his life turning him into a wholly different person, or let him die(again) as his true self. If you pick the former you can return the betrayal.

*vague description it’s complicated.

Read other summary here.

John Silver/James Flint (Black Sails)

Summarized by Anonymous Contributor

what if we were pirates and I was grieving over my lost love and pulled you into the orbit of my narrative and turned you into the same kind of monster as I am but instead of dedicating all your energy to destruction you found people to love and you sacrificed our shared dream of revolution for a chance at a quiet life and you had to kill me to do it but instead you said I will wait here for a day a month a year until we can walk out of this together. and also we were both boys.

The moment that best exemplifies WHY I believe silverflint should win this tournament isn't the moment of the betrayal itself, but something that happens an entire season before. It's the season 3 finale, and Flint and Silver are preparing for a battle. Silver says to Flint, "Your demons are a part of our reality. Such is the nature of the influence you wield. Some of those demons I've come to know, but the one in whose name this war is to be fought is still a stranger to me." He asks Flint to share the deepest and most painful parts of his backstory - and Flint does. He opens up to Silver about his (queer) lover, who was killed because of their relationship. He's never told anyone about this before, and everyone who knew is is dead. But he tells Silver.

Silver takes this in and comes to a realization. He tells Flint that he sees himself as the latest in a line of people who have become very close to Flint and died because of it. He places himself in the same category as both of Flint's dead lovers. But he says that, when it comes down to it, he's afraid he's going to destroy Flint rather than let himself be destroyed. Flint tells Silver that if he does try to kill him, he'll have his work cut out for him. The whole conversation takes place in flashbacks, intercut with the battle that takes place the next day. The end of the conversation is played in voiceover over the final shots of the season: after winning the battle, Flint stands on the bank of a river, staring across at Silver and Silver's lover; the two of them stand on the opposite bank staring back.

It is POETIC CINEMA on a level I don't even have words for. It's the moment of their greatest triumph together, the moment Flint finally opens up to someone a decade after what happened to him, the moment their partnership goes from utilitarian to inseparable. But the seeds of their dissolution are already present. Silver says as much, in the same breath as he declares himself to be the latest in the lineage of Flint's lovers. It's a truly unbelievable sequence.

#shuake #silverflint #akechi goro #akira kurusu #john silver #captain flint #black sails #p5 #polls

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tomboyyyaoi · 1 year

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Vashwood thematically feels like two starts orbiting each other very closely, while Vashmeryl is like a planet naturally orbiting a start or large force of mass. Like they both are about two people revolving around each

i see u and if u dont mind me pulling off this to make it much more essay-ish than it needs to be,

for me it feels like vash has 2 sides to his character and both wolfwood n meryl are there to understand each of those sides

wolfwood relates to and resonates w his more "monstrous" side, theyve both seen hell and come out with completely different views but despite that they still are probably the only two who really Get eachother for that, just feeling too big for your skin and that theyr only deserving of loneliness, but they find eachother and they click because they fit more in with the monstrous, evil, barely human people of nomans land who want to see it burn and theyr always pulling themselves from comfort and happiness because they feel they dont deserve it and they need to atone for the people who Made them, but they find it in eachother whether they mean to or not until the very end. they even became so enamoured with eachother that when wolfwood died, in a sense, he joins rem in vash's head as someone to fight for and someone who shapes his reasoning, he only kills legato to save livio because wolfwood died for livio, just like how rem died to save everyone so then anyone dying would be a waste of her death

for meryl she sees herself in the more human side of vash, despite all hes been through he still smiles like its nothing and she knows damn well thats not normal and hes hiding his pain because hes still a person. when vash kills legato he breaks down completely she holds his head in her lap and thinks about how she did the same when she first killed someone because its such a human reaction, something the people of nomans land seem to have forgotten. theyr horribly terrified to get close to eachother because she knows hes not human, she knows what hes capable of and shes absolutely got issues herself with being emotionally closed off and for vash we know he punishes himself by not allowing himself simple comforts as well as the fact he knows hes a danger to those around him but theres still a person in there and meryl sees it and vash knows she does and is so relieved that Someone does but theyr both too traumatised to get close but by the end of the manga we start to see them perhaps warming up to the idea of being closer

you can even expand further on this with wolfwood's status as a victim of the narritive by watching how all the gungho guns are picked off one by one (besides livio) including knives and wolfwood because thats vash's whole reason for not just giving up and living a quiet human life as eriks, wolfwood (and knives, and the rest of the gungho huns) dying can be read as vash losing his need to be a monster, and while it pains him to see his partner and brother die its like that inhuman part of him - or the need to use it - dying too, which can also be seen in his hair turning black, and whos still there by the end when his hairs fully black and theres no threat forcing him to be a monstrous angelic saviour to the world? meryl - his humanity. we dont really see much of him living as human (such as allowing himself to grieve, recover, love, eat, sleep, form bonds, laugh, smile, be happy) before the series ends but i love that it lets us fill in the blanks

anyway uhh TL;DR wolfwood brings understanding and comfort in vash's inhumanity and meryl reminds him of and encourages his humanity

#whoops sorry i just woke up #trigun #vashmeryl #vashwood

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fallowtail · 25 days

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Am I the only one who genuinely sees Hetty caring more about Trevor each day? She seems so excited for his happiness lately! And...also...hurt when he is upset with her. Even though she kind of ignored him when he "broke up" with her, she was worried about him when he first brought her into the room. Maybe it is just wishful thinking, but I am seeing a deeper meaning in their relationship. I hope it is true.

No I agree! They're definitely still orbiting around each other. I think Hetty does care, she just doesn't know how to care- Hetty's very, very fickle and not great with her emotions, she's constantly being a hypocrite and flipflopping around with where her empathy gets placed which is a very fun character flaw of hers, you never really know how she's going to react to things because while we see often that she does care about her friends she's very selfish. You can see that while she starts and ends the break up scene being shitty, in the middle she does start to look contrite and guilty- until he leans into the Alberta-knows-about-your-plan thing and she pivots back into being Fixated on her scheme to get sucked off, which to her is the most important thing in the world (they have different goals- Trevor wants to be alive again/pretend he's still alive, and Hetty just is fed up with being a ghost and wants to get sucked off no matter what it takes). I think if that hadn't happened they might have made up there instead of breaking up, and you're right that she did initially care/seem concerned when he said they needed to talk. The fun thing about them is they really struggle to communicate with each other and they both goofed that conversation up, though to different degrees- Hetty can't handle criticism or the implication she's done something wrong, because she always has to be right/have the upper hand (and she also genuinely doesn't think she has done anything wrong but instead of hearing him out she instantly tries to shift the blame), so she immediately switches into trying to manipulate him, and then Trevor responds to her manipulation by bringing the fact that other people (Alberta) think she's being awful, but this backfires on him, lol. It was very cute how in the new episode she gets all excited about the Tara Reid thing with him, the way she elbows him with that genuine scrunchy happy face was adorable. It was very cute seeing her happy for him even if she switched to team get-rid-of-Jeremy because she's always gonna be on the side of Business. I really don't think they're done with each other because the nature of their relationship within the show-canon is that they love to hate each other, they're combustible and they butt heads but in a way that makes them- well- horny, LOL, and the way they bicker is definitely a part of that. The very bratty way Trevor tells her that "you can't make me (do what you want)" in the new episode felt very charged in a way that their dynamic building up to the initial kiss had been, so I'm remaining hopeful we'll see some more from them, since we know Asher and Rebecca are both wanting to do more :]

#cbs ghosts #replies #cbs ghosts spoilers #anon #h-money #sorry if i explained this poorly #i think about them constantly #i can't get everything i want to say out of my brain properly but i think this hopefully comes across decently enough #she was working against him this episode but not mean spiritedly

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dulcewrites · 2 years

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Thin line between love and hate

Pairing: austin!elvis x reader

Summary: You always thought Elvis hated you, and vise versa, despite your boyfriend’s attempts to create a bond between you two. But then again they always say the line between love and hate is thin (wc: 1221)

Warnings: Cheating, Jerry being a bad boyfriend

A/N: sort of just wrote this on a whim. hope y'all like it. please reblog, like, and follow if you do 🫶🏽

Masterlist

You’re a calm person. Even your mother said you were that subdued as a baby. Being able to quietly handle things and people life threw at you was a trait you had perfected. That being your said, sometimes your laidback nature comes off cold. Ice princess: you were used to that name being thrown around about you.

It was no different when you met Jerry. Your girlfriends dragged you out of the house a year and a half ago to see Elvis when he came to New York for two shows. You didn’t give him much to work with when he came up to you before the show, telling you he just had to speak to you. It wasn’t to be mean, it’s just how you are. But his sweet smile, and kind persistence was endearing. He, for reason, wanting to stay in touch after leaving was more that you expected.

And now here you are, in Vegas… living on a loop. Wake up, hang with the same men, meet the new girls they bring in, get all dressed up, and see the same show put on by the same man.

It’s hard for you to remember that time. Him taking breaks from the tour to visit you. The letters, the phone calls, and flowers. He was so sweet. What the hell happened? Where did that Jerry go? It’s hard for you not to blame him for your boyfriend’s behavior.

Elvis is like a supernova; he burns so bright and powerful no one can look away. But eventually every supernova collapses to a dull star. Or worse, they turn into black holes that suck the life out of everything. Being in his orbit was sucking the life out of you; you’re sure of it.

When you decided to move out to Vegas months ago, the relationship between Elvis and you started as polite small talk, then turned into passive aggressive moves. He makes a sly comment about being surprised you’re still around, clearly hinting at your boyfriend having other options. You decide not to come to one of the shows; a big no no for anyone in his circle. A game of cat and mouse. One day you’re the mean girlfriend that’s holding Jerry back from his duties, the next he’s the high maintenance boss everyone babies and coddles.

Maybe both assumptions you guys made about each other are true. Neither of you have played nice like Jerry pleads for you guys to do.

But something shifted after Priscilla leaves. You shouldn’t feel bad for him. You had seen first-hand how he is on the road and in Vegas, plus Priscilla had always been good to you. Despite that, you couldn't help the way your heart sank for Elvis when Priscilla confided in you about her unhappiness.

“I know I might not be the person you want to talk to, but I’m here if you need someone,” the words come out before your brain registers how it sounds. If it’s one thing Elvis hates, it’s pity.

But to your surprise instead of saying something that would lead to another standoff between you and him, he nods and gives your arm a squeeze. Since that moment, things have been different. Not perfect, but better. Well better between you and Elvis; you wish you could say the same thing about your relationship with Jerry.

It gets bad on your birthday of all days. Elvis insisted on throwing a dinner party. At first it sounded like an excuse for the boys to drink and invite people you don’t know, but the earnest smile on his face makes you stupidly agree. You’re taken aback at how he takes care of everything including surprising you with inviting your friends from back home.

Things are good and light, and you feel so pretty in your new dress. And then it hits your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. You try to ignore the extremely empty seat next to you, and the looks your friends give you. Or ignore the whispers between the rest the of Memphis Mafia, Elvis included.

You smile for the pictures the photographer is taking. You drink and indulge more than you have in a long time, you dance with your friends, and eventually you forget about how hours ago you were planning how to get the hell out of Vegas.

Elvis pulls you out to the balcony of the restaurant/bar after whispering in your ear he wants give you something. You find yourself trying not to stare at the sliver of bare chest you see under his suit jacket, trying to chalk it up to the glasses of champagne.

You blink slowly when he pulls a ring box out of his pocket.

“I know things started off rocky between you and me. But I think have been changin’ and for the better,” he says softly, standing in front of you. “I know it’s not easy, but we want you here. I want you here.”

A lump grows in your throat. He knows about the problems between you and Jerry. If they weren’t obvious before, they are now. And he knows the type of woman you are. Disrespect is not something you just take. You suck in a breath when Elvis opens the ring box. A shimmering pure solid gold band, engraved with your initials on one side and TLC on the other side. It’s not the usual gaudy pieces of jewelry used to see him dish out.

You let him slip it on your finger and stare at it for a moment. It hits you all at once that you’ve been blaming this man on how your boyfriend treats you. When in all actuality, if Jerry wanted to do right by you, he just would. You feel his finger curl under your chin to lift your head up.

“When you’re one of mine, I’ma take care of you, and that goes for you too darlin’”

You genuinely don’t know what to say to that. A thank you doesn’t seem like an adequate answer. You don’t know what comes over you when you lean up and kiss his cheek. And you surely don’t know what comes over him when he turns his head, his lips grazing against yours. One of you should pull away but it doesn’t happen. It’s fucked; you’re doing the same thing you suspect Jerry has been doing behind your back, and with his best friend.

But that idea doesn’t stop you from push your lips against Elvis’s. The kiss is sloppy and needy and it’s everything you haven’t been getting from Jerry. You feel one of his hands slide lower and lower down your backside. His lips move from yours to jaw, then right under your ear.

“Come to my room when we get back to the hotel.”

It wasn’t a question; it was an order. And with that, he just turns to go back into the building. You stand there, dazed and wondering what the hell you just did. You wait for the guilt to kick in, but instead you straighten your slumped shoulders to walk back into the room. The thoughts of Jerry slip away as they’re replaced of all the things Elvis could and will do to you. All the ways he’s about to take care of you.

#elvis imagine #elvis fic #austin!elvis x reader #elvis 2022 #my writing #austin!elvis x oc #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #elvis x reader #black!reader

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