#just yearning

[chososdiscordkitten]

I don't wanna be horny anymore. I want warm cuddles and sfw softness that makes me cry.

[chrollohearttags]

I hope my qpb is out there somewhere. It may be selfish but I want my person. A best friend of my own I’m not sharing with anyone else..somebody who I don’t have to guard myself around or feel ashamed. Somebody who I don’t ‘fall in love’ or have to sleep with + vice versa but I would die for in a heartbeat. Somebody who I can talk to about something as trivial as anime and as deep as our purpose here on earth. It’s asking a lot but I don’t think it’s impossible. I know it’s somebody out there for me.

[mossy-froge]

So uh, this is my first fanfic on tumblr? Something possessed me to write this… expect more parts in the future lol

Outlaw! Diluc x fem reader.

Billowing dust rises into the air as a lone rider cuts through a deserted plane, wild red hair blowing in the wind.

It’s been days since he’d last seen a town or any settlement, with the sun starting to set in the horizon Diluc grimaced, not entirely pleased with the prospect of spending another night out in the wilderness with not a roof nor foliage to cover him from the scorching heat or rainy skies.

His jaw clenches as he presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, nearly tasting the grains of dust in his mouth even with a cloth to cover the lower half of his face.

He could only take in labored and stifled breaths as the horse gallops, groaning as his side saturates a darker red with every passing moment from having fought a group of bandits just a few hours prior, an unfair battle where he was outnumbered yet came out victorious.

In the fight, he’d lost quite a bit of his belongings: from the fabric he used to pitch tents to the little medical satchel he’d hung from his saddle. Although, he admits begrudgingly that it was his fault, pulling a tricky maneuver with his delusion to rid of the pesky bandits had cost him a burnt tent and an incinerated medical satchel to a point beyond use nor salvage.

His horse lets out a huff of exhaustion, pace slowing to a leisurely trot as it angrily claps it’s hooves onto the dry earth.

He cranes his neck to the side as he lets out a wry chuckle, clumsily patting the side of the horse’s neck in consolation. “I know, i know… just need to find somewhere for tonight…”

He mutters as his hazy gaze scans the empty land, hoping to find at least a tree to sleep under it’s shade as he’s barely able to keep himself from falling off his saddle. Instead, he sees the dim light of a lone cabin in the distance.

Stilling for a moment, he redirects his horse to head for the little cabin without a second thought, desperation and fatigue having broken down his pride hours ago.

____________

He stops just outside the little cabin, dismounting the mare and securing it’s leash to a nearby fence where he knows she’s safe.

Gravel grits and rolls under his boots as he all but staggers to the comforting glow just beyond the frame of the door, managing to thud against the wooden surface of it with his full weight in his barely lucid state.

With a heavy fist that he’s quickly losing mobility of, he bangs against the door, voice a strained rasp as he speaks as loudly as he can. “Hello? I.. mean no harm, i need shelter. ”

With an irate huff after a moment of silence, he bangs his fist again with a prayer that whoever is inside would hear him.

After a stretch of agonizing stillness and silence, he hears a sudden movement from within the home as the floorboards creak from pressure and the door that was holding him upright swings open.

He topples down onto the floor with a pained groan, fading vision catching sight of a pair of leather boots, the soft lace of a chemise scraping dust off the top of it with every move.

He hears the muffled voice of a woman, pitch high in alarm at the stranger now bleeding onto her wooden floor. Having spent hours alone, he had not noticed how his ears felt as though it’d been stuffed with cotton, eyes fluttering closed as he finally feels the warmth of a proper home.

You can only stare in shock as you’re stood at your doorway in nothing but your chemise and boots, the cold wind serving to raise goosebumps along your skin as you loom down.

There is a huge mass of a man. At your door. And he is bleeding onto your recently cleaned floor!

“Hello!?” You ask again, even when you’re fairly certain that this stranger is likely passed out with how still he’s being as you poke his back and shoulder.

Static silence is all that you’re met with as he lays there motionlessly, you panic for a moment thinking he’s dead only to sigh in relief once you reach down to feel that he is indeed breathing, the warm fan of his breath against your palm is certainly there no matter how weak it may be.

Your sense of morality and self preservation are at odds with one another as you look down at this man and with a grumbled huff you pray to the archons that your act of kindness does not bring you to a horrid fate as you heave, dragging him further into your home.

Seeing his blood streak along your floor you curse like a sailor, both for his survival and for how much work you’re going to put in to clean it again.

With much difficulty you manage to haul him onto the couch, tugging at his shirt to unbutton it (behest your own mortification at undressing an unconscious man like this). You find the source of his wound, a gnarled open gash on his side that had cut through several layers of skin tissue.

Nausea and unease washes over you as you take in a shaky breath, running off into the kitchen to hastily grab a little tin box and a basin that you quickly fill with water.

Even with him being unconscious, he groans in pain as you wash his side with water first then dab disinfectant over his wound, his muscles twitching as his blood stains the cotton towel.

You stare blankly at the needle in your hands for a moment, never having done anything like stitching skin together before (though you suppose sewing pieces of leather together to fashion a winter coat out of it may count) but it was never a living, breathing human. With mumbled curses, you bring your shaky hands to pluck a strand of his hair, watching his brow twitch as you begin feeding it into the eye of the needle and begin to sew his wound closed as neatly as you can. His blood crusts and dries from under your nails and his jagged skin slips out of your hold every now and then as you sweat from the focus it takes.

With his wound finally taken care of, you do a final wipe with a fresh disinfectant soaked cotton before leaving him shirtless on the couch for a moment as you take the basin with you outside.

An uneasy creak emits from the old hinges of the door as you swing it open, the sound of crickets and owls hooting greeting you in the pitch darkness as you venture out within your little fenced area.

You spill the coppery red water a little ways outside of your home and onto the dry soil, sighing tiredly as you fill the basin with water from your well.

Walking back into your home and closing the door firmly, you lock it before you return to the stranger in your home. His hat had already fallen off earlier when you were dragging him to your couch but his bandana remained tied on at the back of his head.

Contemplating for a long moment, you reach for the filth-caked cloth as you begin to untie it. Justifying to yourself that it’s so you can clean him properly, it wasn’t curiosity… it was simply a necessity.

Days worth of sandstorms, the humidity from his breath and sweat has made the fabric stiff like it’d been starched, dust and sand falling off it anytime you accidentally grip it with any pressure. With a grimace you put the cloth away with a mental note to clean it the next time you had the chance.

He’s… much more handsome than you’d imagined, sharp face and a pronounced nose revealed with each drag of the wet cloth against his skin.

You can’t help but be enamored by him, transfixed by how unfairly pretty he looks.

Berating yourself, you tear your gaze away. It’s impolite to stare so brazenly especially if the man is not even conscious!

Now with a clean and stitched up behemoth of a man on your couch, you run amok your home and throw a heavy blanket onto him. The frayed edges of the home woven fabric long eaten by moths settles against his chest as you tuck him in securely.

With a sigh of relief and a pat on the back you sleepily drag yourself upstairs and close the door softly, flopping onto your stiff bed with a tired huff.

[worlds-smallest-epsilon]

the yearning is hitting fucking hard today

[helloimawitchwannaseemycauldron]

When you think about it, it is so homophobic that I don't have a girlfriend to kiss and cuddle right now

[pattonflowerinnit666]

I want to play minecraft with my friends!!!! I want to hop onto a server!!!! Where we all have bases!!! And pets!!!! Maybe weird lore!!! I'll traverse the mines for yall!!!! If yall help me texture my builds!!!!! Trade system baby!!!! Literally yearning to play minecraft with people!!!!! FUCK!!!!!

[theshadowrealmitself]

*slaps the side of a toy Barbie car and it falls apart in pieces* get in boys we’re yearning today

[brattybottomdyke]

.

[perfectlyripeclementine]

calling my lover "mine" but not in the way that my toothbrush or notebook are mine, mine in the way my neighborhood is mine, and also everybody else's, "mine" like mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love. "mine" not like possession but devotion.

[bixels]

Everyone in Ponyville knows these two have a thing going on, except for these two.

[seaniepop]

maybe we could lie down next to or near each other

maybe we could listen to songs that move our hearts

maybe we could hold hands and squeeze them together when the lyrics shined a little on the secrets of our souls

maybe for a short time, we could share a few precious moments. as we breathe, filling our lungs with hope, with a love for life itself

wouldn't that be nice

[worlds-smallest-epsilon]

I need somebody making out with me right now or I’m gonna explode

[jdididydog]

[mooniluvyou]

bring yearn culture back in 2024

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

You keep telling yourself that Namari.

[objectivefruit]

i used to think i would just kms if i were to be thrown into an apocalyptic setting — because it all seems like it’d be too much of a bother, really.

BUT.

I’ve started to consider the fact that it would be a very adequate setting for a slow burn hurt/no comfort lesbian romantic tragedy so you know what…

i’ve changed my mind.