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pit-and-the-pen · 1 day

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Hi! I am so grateful you came across my feed! You also have an incredibly extensive prompt list which is amazing btw. Could I please get a 104 and 75 with Azriel?? I have been wanting to see how they would do with a fairy, considering they are like the opposite of a bat. They’re light and airy, gorgeous wings. Illyrian wings are gorgeous too but in a dark way and I think the contrast is cool without having to make them an angel. Ya know? Thank you if you end up doing it!

Thank you so much and thank you for the request! My prompt list is left over from an event I did when I hit 100 followers and I just kept adding to it. I love the idea of the difference in their wings. Because the books have already explored a few different types of wings and I think fairy wings are absolutely gorgeous.

The reader is half High Fae, half fairy.

Hope you like it! <3

Warning: Unwelcome touching (not by Azriel), Smut (18+), protective Az!!!!

WC: ~1.7k

Divider by @cafekitsune

My wings had always been something I was immensely proud of, sure they weren’t the stark white feathered covered ones from Day or the gorgeous bat-like wings from the Illyrains but you loved them. Translucent but pink iridescent, the membrane golden in color. Compared to my stature, short by fae standards, they easily were half of my height.

When I moved from the Spring Court to Night, I remember feeling slightly self-conscious about them. Before the mating bond had snapped, Azriel had spent many nights reassuring me how beautiful he thought they were. How they made me special. I would sniffle into his neck, “But they let everyone know I’m only half High Fae.” He would hold my head in his hands and try not to laugh at the absurd concern. “So is Rhys, so is Cassian. Most High Fae are. That’s not a bad thing.” Light kisses were pressed to my face, “If anything it makes you more special. Something no other High Fae has.” His words calmed my raging mind. Once the mating bond had snapped, he really began to worship them. He was the first person I had let touch them. The both of us learned they truly were as sensitive as his own. It became something he could tease me with, only in the privacy of our bedroom. One touch and I would melt into his touch.

Now, I stood in the middle of the throne room at Hewn City. Dress in midnight blue, the same exact shade as my mates siphons. The floor length gown is skin tight and the velvet was smooth under my fingers as I tried to smooth it out.

I fidgeted slightly out of nerves. I had refused the first time Rhys offered to glamour them away, they were too much a part of who I was for me to hide them even in this vile place. But I still felt very exposed around this many unfamiliar faces.

Azriel had stepped away to join the conversation Rhys was currently having with Keir. Placing a small kiss on my temple as he walked away, “Have fun, sweetheart.” I instantly started looking for Mor, desperate for some semblance of comfort.

I found her on the dance floor. I gave her a low bow, hand extended which she returned with a perfect curtsey. I took her hand and we began to weave through the other couples as we waltzed around the ballroom, her head thrown back with laughter.

A pair of hands on my hips swept me out of her grasp. I let out a startled cry, expecting to be met with my favorite pair of hazel eyes. The male that had grabbed me was certainly not Azriel nor anyone I noticed. I could smell the faerie wine on his breath as he spoke in my ear, “What pretty wings.” I thanked him, my voice getting stuck like gum in my throat. I tried to pull the unknown male's hands off of my hips, even to just push them up to my waist but he just dug his hands in tighter. I yelped at the pressure and he just gave me a cocky smirk.

“I know how sensitive Illyrian wings are, and given the shadowslingers scent all over you, I bet you do too,” He laughed at my shocked expression, “I wonder if these are just as sensitive.” By this time, we had stopped dancing. I stood frozen, bile turned my stomach as he reached a grimy hand up to stroke the edge of my wings. His rough touch made me chirp in pain, he had pitched the fragile membrane between his nails and dragged them down.

He went to repeat the motion again when I felt the heat of him disappear entirely. When I looked around for him, I saw large black wings in front of my face. The male that had been touching me was pinned to the dance floor. Azriel’s heavy boots, holding him there by his neck. The male was desperately clutching at his leg, trying to pull him off. Azriel scoffed.

“Doesn’t feel so good to have someone touch you when you don’t want them to?” He pressed down a little harder, the muscles twitching in his leg.

“Now, if you ever think about touching my mate, or anyone else, without their expressed interest,” His hand went to rest on truth-teller’s hilt. “You will find yourself without hands.” He lifted his leg off the male's neck and didn’t spare him a glance as he grabbed my hand and started leading me out of the ballroom.

People jumped out of our way and I didn’t even think of saying anything to him as I felt his fury down the bond. Not at me, never at me. But for not being there to stop the hands I could still feel on my wings. He pulled us into a room, no, a closet, and I could almost make out the shape of him from the light that snuck along the frame.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked sternly. Fae Lights flickered on, giving the room a soft glow. I shook my head and he let out a heavy exhale. He placed his forehead against mine and we just stood there as both of our breathing evened out

“Az, you didn’t have to do all of that.” I finally spoke blushing, the dim lights of the room doing nothing to protect me from his gaze.

“You don’t understand, I will do anything to protect you.” The solemnity of those words made my heart lurch and heat pool in my stomach.

“I don’t know whether to be scared or turned on.” His laugh echoed in his chest.

“Look at my dirty girl,” He started kissing down my neck, “Does seeing me defend you turn you on?” I whimpered when his tongue started following his kisses.

“I don’t know, you’re the one that dragged me into a literal closet.” He growled lightly.

“Be nice, sweet girl.” Chiding me, I felt desire and defiance flood my veins.

“Bite me.”

“With pleasure.” He all but purred in my ear and he was on me. His lips captured mine. Teeth captured my lower lip when I moaned into his mouth. His tongue explored my mouth, brushing against the roof of my mouth and my legs turned into jelly. He hiked my leg up to rest on his waist, using the hand on my back to stabilize me. Trailing up my leg with his free hand.

“Fuck” He groaned when he reached the center of my thighs. Blood flowed to my cheeks. I was soaked. He didn’t waste anymore time before he slipped my panties to the side. I cried out as deft fingers found my clit and started rubbing tight, fast circles.

My hands started to trail down to reach for his waistband but his shadows pinned my arms to my side.

“Let me make you feel good, my love.” I moaned at his words. My moans instantly broke into a scream as I felt two of his fingers plunge into me. He curled against the rough spot and I panted out his name.

“Az…Please, I need more.” I begged him. He just started to kiss my neck again, sucking what I knew would be angry bruises. His kisses started to trail lower, his shadows once again helping him as they slid the top of my dress down to expose my breasts. My hands went to his hair as he wrapped his lips around my nipple. Sucking the perfect amount of pressure, mixed with his fingers pistoning in and out of me. I felt myself fall apart under him. My climax racked through me hard, I sagged against his hand still on my back.

“There you go. Good girl.” He praised me. I expected his hand to pull away but he kept working me through waves of pleasure. I whined, “Too much. Az.” I panted out the words, chest quickly rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath.

“Can you give me one more?” His kisses started trailing lower and he unwrapped my leg from his waist. I was going to say something but it got lost on my tongue as he started to sink to his knees. He began to trail kisses up my leg as he went to throw my foot over his shoulder.

He placed one of my hands on his head, my fingers instantly grabbing his soft locks.

“Hold on princess.” Was the only warning I received before he dove in between my legs. I mewled at the pressure his lips sucked around my clit, still sensitive from my last orgasm. Broken versions of his name left my mouth and I tried to stop my hips from bucking. He used his free hand to guide my hips, letting me ride his face. It didn’t take long for him to have me at the edge. My eyes squeezed shut, white spotting the black behind my eyelids as he gave my clit a soft nip. That was enough to have my orgasm crashing over me. This time, my knees did buckle out from under me but Azriel’s hands were there instantly to hold me up.

I blinked up at him. He was the picture of male satisfaction as he took in my glassy eyes. I once again went to reach for his pants but he pushed my hands away with a chuckle.

“Later. I promise.” He said when I pouted at him. “Two isn’t enough for you, sweet girl?” I shook my head and he really laughed at that. He stood back up and smoothed out the lines in his suit. He helped me adjust my dress back into place. My hair was a lost cause, as well as my smudged makeup. He pressed a bruising kiss to my lips and when he pulled away he whispered in my ear

“Now we’re going to go back out there, covered in your scent and maybe that will remind people just exactly who they’re messing with from now on.”

#acomaf #acosf #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acowar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger smut #azriel spymaster #acotar smut #a court of thorns and roses #requested #protective azriel

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 days

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The Witch's Bodyguard

(3) I'm Bad At Love

Actress!Wanda Maximoff x Bodygaurd!Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda wants to know about your past

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: This is a hurt/comfort. Mentions of R's past relationship, abandonment issues

A/N: Wanda and R took over completely I did nothing it was all them

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @rroyale-109 @wandanat01 @scarlizziee @nixxnsworld

@snoozingredpanda @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsromanovaa @sweet--escape17

@natashamaximoff-69 @godhatesgoodgirls @kristalag @mfd-101

It's a almost a month into your job as her security guard when she finally asks, "Can I ask you something?" You look up from the book in your hand.

"You can ask me anything Ma'am." You respond, setting the book down and giving her your attention.

"When you signed the contract you corrected one of my lawyers about you being Miss. and not Mrs. Were you married before?" You feel your chest tighten at the question. It certainly wasn't the question you were expecting.

You feel your chest tighten at the question, a rush of memories flooding your mind like a relentless tide. It wasn't a topic you were used to discussing, let alone with someone like Wanda, but her gentle curiosity urges you to open up, if only for a moment.

"I was," you respond, your voice flat, devoid of the usual stoicism.

Wanda's expression softens, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sympathy and understanding. "Is it okay to ask about it? I don't want to overstep," she speaks delicately, her concern palpable.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, the weight of the past pressing down upon you. "It's not by any means a good story," you admit, your gaze flickering away from hers. "But if you want to hear it..."

Her unwavering gaze prompts you to continue, despite the reluctance gnawing at your insides. "We were high school sweethearts. Dated all four years, and when we turned 18, she wanted to get married. So we just went to city hall and did the paper thing. Said we'd do a big wedding when I was done with my tours."

You pause, the memories threatening to overwhelm you. "She was always so supportive, but when I came back from my last tour, things were different. Turns out she wasn't okay with waiting anymore, and I was in no condition from my last tour to do anything like a wedding. Came home ready to tell her about Val and the job opportunity, but she was gone... ten years, and she left me with a note."

The words hang heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of the pain you've carried with you for so long. Without realizing it, tears begin to blur your vision, a silent testament to the wounds that still haven't fully healed.

Before you can retreat into the walls you've built around yourself, Wanda is suddenly there, her arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. She's practically in your lap, her presence a warm anchor amidst the storm of emotions threatening to consume you.

Wanda's words wash over you like a soothing balm, her empathy a comforting presence in the midst of your turmoil. You're taken aback by the raw emotion in her voice, the sincerity evident in every syllable. It's a side of her you hadn't seen before, one that speaks to the depth of her compassion and understanding.

"I am so sorry, Y/N. You didn't deserve that. No one deserves that," she says, her voice trembling with emotion. "She could have at least waited and said it to your face."

Her words strike a chord deep within you, stirring emotions you've long since buried beneath layers of stoicism. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you allow yourself to be vulnerable, to acknowledge the pain that still lingers beneath the surface.

In a moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability, you find yourself pulling Wanda closer, your arms wrapping around her waist as she settles onto your lap. She allows your tears to fall freely, offering silent solace in the embrace of your shared grief.

For a fleeting moment, the roles are reversed, and you find yourself seeking comfort in the arms of the woman you've sworn to protect. It feels oddly liberating, this unspoken exchange of support and understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that binds you together.

As Wanda's comforting touch soothes the ache in your heart, time seems to blur into a haze of shared sorrow and quiet understanding. Minutes stretch into hours, the only constant the gentle rhythm of her hand rubbing circles on your back.

You try to apologize for your outburst, but Wanda cuts you off with a determined look, her hand cupping your face with a surprising tenderness. "Stop. You have nothing to be sorry about," she insists, her voice filled with conviction. "She broke your heart, turned your whole world upside down, and she just got to walk away like it never mattered. I don't know how she could have done that to you."

Her words strike a chord deep within you, stirring a sense of righteous anger at the injustice of it all. You find yourself lost in the depths of her gaze, her eyes reflecting a fire that matches the intensity of your own emotions.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull between you, you nod in silent agreement, a sense of solidarity forming between you like an unbreakable bond. When Wanda smiles at your acquiescence, your stomach flips with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation.

She's so close to you now, her warmth seeping into your very soul, and you can't help but notice how beautiful she looks in the flickering firelight. The urge to lean in and kiss her is almost overwhelming, a primal instinct that refuses to be ignored.

Your hands, which had loosened from their earlier grip, now find purchase on her hips, fingers curling around the curves of her body as if seeking reassurance in her proximity. The air between you crackles with tension, thick with unspoken desires and unexplored possibilities.

In that moment, with her so close and your heart pounding in your chest, you realize that perhaps, there's more to this connection than meets the eye.

As Wanda's gaze flickers downward to your lips, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins, a primal instinct urging you to close the distance between you. Her hesitation is palpable, but the hunger in her eyes speaks volumes, mirroring the raw intensity of your own longing.

You catch the subtle movement of her tongue darting out to wet her lips, a gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. The temptation to lean in and taste her is almost overwhelming, a magnetic pull that refuses to be denied.

But even as your instincts scream for release, you can't shake the nagging voice of reason at the back of your mind. You know the boundaries that shouldn't be crossed, the consequences that could come from succumbing to this forbidden desire.

And yet, in the heat of the moment, with her so close and the fire of passion burning bright between you, those concerns seem distant and inconsequential. All you can think about is the taste of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against yours, the sweet surrender of giving in to this undeniable attraction.

But as you gaze into her eyes, you realize that perhaps, just perhaps, this moment is meant to be savored, not rushed. And so, with a silent vow to honor the boundaries that keep you apart, you lean back just slightly, allowing the space between you to linger like a promise unfulfilled.

In that moment, with the fire still burning bright and the night stretching out before you, you find solace in the unspoken understanding that this desire, though powerful, is something to be cherished, not consumed.

"It's late, we should get to bed," you finally break the silence, the words feeling heavy on your tongue as you try to push aside the swirling emotions that threaten to consume you.

Wanda's pout is unmistakable, her disappointment evident in the downturn of her lips. For a fleeting moment, you're tempted to give in to the urge to stay, to lose yourself in the intoxicating allure of her presence.

But the weight of responsibility bears down upon you, a reminder of the boundaries that must be upheld, even in the face of temptation. You can't risk crossing that line, not when the consequences could be so devastating.

Wanda gets off of your lap, pout still adorning her face and its hard to ignore as the two of you make your way to her room, making sure she gets there safely. As she goes to enter her bedroom your hand grabs for her wrist. The action catches both of you off guard as your body moves on instinct, pulling her back into you, holding her against your chest. As you pull back you lean down giving a peck to her cheek.

“Thank you for everything tonight. It was something I needed.” Wanda’s face was flushed when you pulled back, making you smirk. “I’ll see you in the morning Ma’am.” You turned around, letting her go as you walked down the hall to your room. Maybe one day you’d be able to give yourself to her, but not tonight.

#ley speaks #ley writes #ley writes series #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wan #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #twb #the wit #the witch's bodyguard

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sorrowsofsilence · 2 days

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Desolate Love • N.S

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader (oneshot)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst.

Prompt: His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love; but you weren't meant to be sung for, even if you loved each other first.

Authors note: I have never written anything like this publically before, but I'm feeling a little sad and angsty lol. I hope you enjoy the words that came from my heart. (ps. I know many on the taglist are here for smut, and this isn’t smut, but I'm just re-using tags since I'm not sure who enjoys what! Pls let me know if you don't want to be tagged in all things!!)

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak @darkmxgician

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

He got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

A reminder of what once was.

A reminder of what would never be.

You wrote unspoken words in your diary, quarrels that would never be said aloud.

Words that confessed years of feelings, years of silenced affections.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours.

He consumed your mind; the way he smiled at you the day you met; his contagious laughter that danced through the walls in grandeur.

“Is this Henderson’s gym class?”

The voice behind startled you, and you turned, meeting a pair of ochre eyes. The stutter that left your lips caused your face to warm in embarrassment, as the messy brunette locks that fell across the boy’s features left you captivated.

“Yeah, I think so?” Your brows furrowed as you second-guessed yourself, even though you double-checked the classroom timetable a thousand times.

His lips spread into a dancing grin, his slight buck teeth chewing playfully on his bottom lip in shyness.

“Cool,” He stuck out his hand, long fingers wrapping around yours, “Noah.”

“Y/N,” You returned the smile, your ears heating as his October gaze never left yours.

You pulled away, briefly glancing down at his shirt, immediately excited.

“You like blink-182?”

Noah looked down at his shirt, pointing at it, “Oh yea, I fucking love them.”

He glanced up at you, fixated, “Do you?”

You nodded excitedly, “They’re probably my favourite band at the moment, other than the 1975, and Oasis, and-” you began to ramble, but stopped, afraid to embarrass yourself anymore than you felt you had.

Something flickered within his eyes at that moment; something you never noticed.

“Wonderwall?” He asked.

A song that became yours.

The burned CD he gave you collected dust in the corner of your room, aged and scratched from years of use. The disk player sat untouched, left as a painful reminder from when the tunes that played were melodies of hope; melodies of elation.

These feelings of grief consumed you, engulfing you into an overwhelming feeling of remorse.

The waves of heartbreak came and left, nostalgia shielding your anguish when memories flooded in.

No one ever filled you with such devotion and desire as he did; and throughout the naivety, you could have sworn it to be love.

It was the way Noah would shout your name from across the room when he saw you, or the way he would cover your eyes, asking you to guess who.

Every time you would laugh, placing your hands on top of his, saying you weren’t sure.

But you knew every time.

His long fingers would twirl your hair when he sat behind you in class, tugging the strands playfully before running his nails over your scalp.

“I just like your hair,” He’d say.

And whenever he picked up his guitar in the band room, he would strum the chords to your song, as if inviting you to listen to his lyrical confessions.

His texts consisted of using silly nicknames, and an overload of emojis to express his feelings. It was over the top, almost as if he was afraid he never came across as genuine enough without them.

Late night conversations went on for hours, laughing at the random stories and memories exchanged through flirtatious banter. You wanted to tell him everything about you, and learn everything about him.

You wanted to know his favourite colour, and what cologne he wore. His goals and dreams intrigued you, his fears and dislikes alluring.

You began to like the things he did, just to have something to talk about. You watched the shows he recommended and googled the things you didn’t know. Anything for him.

Noah would tell you how proud he was of you if you shared an accomplishment, or how pretty you looked when you wore your hair down.

He told you he loved your sneakers, and the way your oversized sweaters engulfed your body.

“You could wear mine,” He said, “You look good in my clothes.”

He would grab your hands, drawing silly pictures in Sharpie. It always left you frustrated when the image of an scribbled smiley face barely faded with each scrub.

But really, you would stare at it in admiration, blushing at the thought of his fingers brushing against yours.

“You like him, don’t you?” Your best friends pried, causing you to flush in embarrassment.

“He doesn’t like me like that,” You sighed, shaking your head, “We’re just friends.”

Just friends don’t play with each others hair like that.

Just friends don’t call each other pretty.

Just friends don’t text each other all night long.

“Is it easier to just pretend?”

Time went on, and your heart fluttered at every smile Noah shared with you, and at every word you exchanged.

The daily good morning and goodnight texts left you melting, succumbing your heart to his as he claimed it for his own.

Deep down, you knew he liked you more than just a friend. The way he treated you was special; there was no way that was how friends treat friends.

N: “Hey, your crush 100% likes you back.”

You: “Uhh hey? How would you know?”

N: “Well, I know who you like.”

You: “I guarantee you don’t.”

N: “Hmm, but I do? And I know he likes you back.”

You: “Sure Noah, haha. Go to bed.”

N: “I’m just saying. He likes you. Goodnight Y/N <3”

With a spiralling mind, your heart hammered.

Did he know how you felt about him? Did he just confess his feelings?

Hope.

It wasn’t until he pulled you into the storage closet a week later, that sorrow knocking down any previous signs of faith.

Torn.

“Y/N, I just wanted to talk… but I know you have feelings for me.”

His eyes bore into your own, sorrowful and sullen.

“Look,” he began, grabbing your hands in his, eyes glancing at your entwined fingers, “I- I just promised myself to someone else. My girl- ex-girlfriend, is coming here, and the reason we broke up was because I transferred.”

He began to ramble, unable to look into your eyes as he confessed his worries. Your heart began to shatter as you forced a small smile. Pulling your hands from his you placed them on his shoulders, causing him to pause.

“Noah,” You said softly, the words leaving your mouth a blatant lie, “It’s ok. I understand.“

His shoulders fell as he watched you. He brought you into a hug, squeezing you against his body, holding onto you.

Ludicrous. Empty.

You cried, your knees held to your chest in comfort as a shield from the feelings of abandonment. How could you be so naive?

You: “Just wanted to say thank you for telling me. I’m sorry if my feelings complicate things, I care about you a lot Noah.”

N: “I’m sorry, for everything. You mean a lot to me, and I care about you. ”

You: “If you knew who I liked all along… why did you say that my crush liked me back?”

It took him almost an hour to respond.

N: “Because I do like you Y/N. I like you a lot… but I promised myself to someone.”

The tears that fell from your face that night left you parched and broken, your world-shattering.

You found someone else a year later. Love that fulfilled your every need, someone to cherish you for you. It was someone who gave you everything; but your mind selfishly always wandered back to him.

You didn’t know that the day he found out you became spoken for, was the day he broke into a million pieces from a whole.

His heart was mutilated, head spinning with uncontrollable thoughts of regret.

How could he have let you slip through his fingers? All for some what-ifs?

He pretended to be happy for you.

Years passed, and you both grew. Both changed, both matured.

You got a ring, and Noah played in a band. You went to every show, you still showed up, even though you knew you were always a second choice.

He watched you the whole time as his fingers traced the strings of the guitar, and your heart yearned for him; screaming and aching and crying that you were just a body in the room.

It wasn’t until he found someone, that you told yourself it wasn’t healthy to fixate on past uncertainties.

It was rare you went to shows now. But when you did, you watched as he stood on that stage and sung; his smile brilliant and just for her.

But then you would meet his gaze, and you knew that the ochre was always for you. Forever yours.

His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love.

But you weren’t his: you weren’t mean’t to be sung for.

Some nights you called him drunk. You told him you missed him, that you wanted him to know you think about him all the time.

He told you he missed your voice, and how he wished you two still called.

He said he was happy you found someone to love you, because you deserved to be loved.

You knew he was lying.

It was the last time you talked, until you saw him sitting in the audience as you walked down the aisle, marrying a man you loved. A man who promised himself to you forever. A man who chose you first. A man who was not him.

Noah asked for your hand, he asked you for a dance. Your bodies swayed one last time in a synchronized beat, but just as friends; as desolate lovers.

You never listened to Wonderwall again.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours. You were meant to be happy now.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

A reminder of what would never be.

A reminder of what once was.

Noah got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

#sorrows of silence masterlist #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian angst #angst #sad poem #bad omens angst #angst fanfic #desolate love

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sincerelyyycece · 2 days

Text

you frustrate me incredibly, sweetheart.

Who knew that having Remus Lupin as your academic rival could be so enjoyable?

note: classic academic rivals to lovers trope, remus lupin calling you sweetheart ACK

tags: @burningwitchprincess

Y/N Y/L/N stood out as an exceptional individual, effortlessly excelling in all endeavours. Her professors held her in high regard, and her peers looked up to her with a mix of admiration and envy, yearning to emulate her brilliance or bask in her presence. Within her academic department, she held a prominent position, often the subject of conversation and admiration, embodying the epitome of "brains and beauty."

Confident in her abilities, Y/N never fretted about being outshone academically, firmly believing in her own supremacy. While she garnered some rivals, she dismissed them as unworthy of her attention, except for one: Remus Lupin. Despite her initial disbelief, Remus once surpassed her in one of her favoured subjects, leaving Y/N both bewildered and intrigued. From that moment on, Remus became her foremost academic rival.

Y/N found amusement in besting Remus at class activities, relishing in her victories, yet seething with jealousy whenever Remus claimed an award she coveted. Their rivalry provided a captivating spectacle and a source of entertainment that heightened the stakes of academic achievement.

Their ongoing rivalry stretched across countless months, captivating everyone as they eagerly watched the intense competition between them. She harboured a strong disdain for him, and she suspected Remus felt similarly. Yet, as the saying goes, the boundary between love and hate can be remarkably thin.

It all began in the Care of Magical Creature class. She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment or reason, but whenever she laid eyes on Remus, a strange sensation gripped her.

As he presented his project to the audience, something about his demeanour made him unexpectedly appealing. When did he become so captivating? She hadn't even realized she was admiring him until their eyes met. Caught off guard, she quickly averted her gaze, trying to regain her composure. What just happened? She sighed in frustration, closing her eyes momentarily.

From then on, conflicting emotions about him plagued her thoughts incessantly. He occupied her mind entirely, and she yearned to free herself from his influence. The situation grew increasingly perplexing for her. She went to great lengths to avoid him, strategically ensuring they never crossed paths in class. Despite this, she remained actively engaged in her studies, except when Remus was involved.

She believed she'd successfully dodged him. Keyword: almost. En route to her next class, she found herself abruptly pulled into an empty classroom. Just as she was gearing up to give the stranger a piece of her mind, he beat her to it. "Why are you avoiding me?" came an all-too-familiar voice, causing her to tense. "Well?" he prodded.

"I'm not avoiding you, Lupin," she replied, turning to confront him. "I'm simply preoccupied with my studies," she shrugged. Remus emitted a small snort and remarked, "Please. You can come up with a better excuse than that, sweetheart." The endearment melted her, but she pretended to grimace at it, retorting, "I've asked you not to call me that."

"Not until you enlighten me on the genuine cause of your avoidance," he interjected, clearly teasing. "I've told you, I'm swamped with my academics!" she protested. He responded with a buzzer-like noise akin to those in TV game shows. "Incorrect. Try again," he prompted. "This is so ridiculous," she groaned. Once more, he replicated the sound, drawing out the exchange. "Ugh, I can't stand you!" she finally exploded. That's not true.

"That's not true," Remus interjected, almost as if he were privy to her thoughts. "What?" she murmured softly. "You don't hate me," he remarked with such ease, as though it were a commonplace observation. Her eyebrows furrowed. "What leads you to believe that?" she inquired, hoping to conceal her nerves. "I just have a feeling," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging.

"And what basis does this feeling have?" she pressed, her patience waning as his responses remained terse. "Just a hunch," he reiterated. "You're not making any sense," she protested. "If we're finished with this conversation, I need to head to class. I'm already running late."

As she moved toward the door, he halted her with a sudden confession, addressing her by her first name, a departure from his usual address. She turned back, silently urging him to continue. "I don't hate you," he admitted. Her expression twisted in confusion. "But you do," she retorted.

Remus shook his head, his smile unwavering. "No, really," she persisted. "You hate me!" Once again, Remus refuted her claim. She sighed inwardly in frustration. "Then why have you been competing with me relentlessly? Why strive so hard for the top spot if you don't harbour any animosity towards me?" she demanded.

"I confess," Remus began, "the only reason I've been your constant rival is because it was the only way to capture your attention." He paused as he noticed her silence, then added, "Your intellect has always fascinated me. I've admired you from afar, too intimidated to approach you directly. So, I engaged in every debate, competition, and challenge to ensure your focus was on me, if only for those moments when our minds clashed."

With a deep breath, he continued, "But now, I want more than just rivalry. I want to be the one you choose, the one you love."

My demeanour softened at his confession. I had mistaken his competitiveness for mutual hatred, yet he had been tirelessly vying for my attention all along. His confession made me realize his feelings for me. As Remus anxiously waited for my response, I finally spoke up, saying, "I've spent countless hours competing against you, but I've come to a realization." Remus visibly relaxed upon hearing my voice. "I no longer desire competition. Instead, I want to work with you, beside you, because... because I've fallen in love with you too."

He flashed a grin and remarked, "You frustrate me incredibly, sweetheart." I responded with a smile, quipping, "It's my forte."

With that, he tenderly encircled his arms around my waist, murmuring, "Can I kiss you?" I couldn't help but chuckle as I noticed the hint of a pout on his lips. He pleaded, "Pretty please?" I closed my eyes, leaning in to meet his lips. The kiss unfolded languidly as if we were relishing each other's presence. As he eventually drew back, he sported a foolish grin. He jestingly remarked, "Perhaps this is my finest reward yet." I couldn't help but snort at his cheesy humour.

Their lips met again in a moment that seemed to suspend time, sealing their newfound affection with a tender promise. With the weight of competition lifted, they embarked on a journey together, intertwining their paths in both love and academia. As they walked out of the empty classroom hand in hand, Y/N knew that their story was just beginning, brimming with possibilities and shared dreams. And in that moment, surrounded by the quiet hum of their shared laughter, she realized that sometimes rivalry could blossom into the most unexpected love story of all.

#remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fluff

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tailsdollr · 2 days

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listening ears on (if you want) im talking about my darling kirby oc, vulcan

Vulcan was made by a higher being called Sekmor. This entity's goal is to retrieve any powerful object the ancients may of made, but instead of using it to their benefit. They destroy them. So no one can have power against them.

Sekmor makes soldiers from scraps. Such as robotics, and random mixes of genes. So in a sense, these are chimeras.

Vulcan was made, trained, and finally sent on a mission to Dream Land. Having being installed with a chip, he was told everything he was needed to directly in his head.

After.. Having some trouble at the beginning. He came across Keeby, who questioned what he was doing before offering their help.

Vulcan.. Begins to feel guilty. He hears Keeby's story. Of how once they weren't alive until they were split in four. After Dark Mind was defeated, and they could return home. They decided to stay as their own, as they all learned to love the world in their own ways.

Vulcan up to this point, had never been able to experience the world. To love it in his own way. Despite the chip inside him protesting. While Keeby isn't around, he tears it out from under his scalp.

And now his mind is empty.

After he promptly gets a big ass bandaid slapped on his head. He explains to Keeby what he did and why. He cries, in fear they can't be friends anymore. Which Keeby disagrees to.

"If you weren't actually my friend.. You would of never told me."

Vulcan blinks away tears, not really understanding until Keeby prompts they go do something instead. Explore the things in Dreamland that Vulcan never was able to experience.

after the main story, Vulcan changes his outfit to be more revealing of who he is. However he still owns both. It's just, this is his way of expressing himself.

Because the chip is destroyed, his creator won't have exact tracking of him... But they'll be back. So it's not exactly over.

But, for the time being. Vulcan is just enjoying the bit of life he was never given as a tool.

That's all!

#my art #art #doodles #kirby #keeby #vulcan #oc #original character #kirby oc #blood warning under the cut #it isnt too graphic but it is there

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 day

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Hi! I love your work! Can I request for the seaside prompts nr.19 with Jake? Thank u so much 🩷

the prompt, for anyone who can't remember (i couldn't either, it's been like half a year): "they carry you bridal-style into the water"

also thank you so much honey!!! <33

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

Jake's eyes were fixed on you and you squirmed under his gaze, already dreading whatever was about to come. There was a faint hint of a smile on his lips, but it looked more directed at himself than at you. Your hands slipped off his jaw and came to rest against his bare chest, ready to push him away if necessary.

"What?", you asked carefully, eyeing him up. Not that you had much means to fight whatever it was he had planned. You were spread out beneath him, completely at his mercy. Usually that had you feeling a different type of way.

"Just admiring my beautiful girlfriend", he muttered, his fingers tightening on your jaw again. He pulled you in once more, lips meeting his in a slow, almost lazy kiss. Your shoulders slumped a bit and you relaxed as your hands drew up and down his skin. Sometimes you really were a bit too mistrustful.

Yeah.

Not today though.

You shouldn't have believed him as easily as you did. Because as much as he did stare at you and as much as he did admire you in daily life, today he had absolutely been planning something, sharpening in the back of his mind, and it happened much too quickly for you to realise.

His arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled away, his fingers splayed out against your bare skin and within less than a second (it seemed) he was standing and you were stumbling against him, still a bit light-headed from the kiss. He bent down again to adjust his grip, to lift you up before you could react in practically any way except to loop your arms around his neck and cling to him in shock.

"Jake", you hissed as his arm hooked under your knees, his skin sticking to yours, sweaty and sandy from the sun and the beach. "Jake, whatever you're trying - don't."

If this hadn't been him, you'd probably have found it rather cute. It wasn't the first time he'd had you bridal-style in his arms, but it was certainly not a regular occurrence either. And to be entirely honest, your heart did flutter just the slighest bit.

But it was him. It very much was him. And you knew him. He wasn't the type to sweep you up in his arms and snog you in a moment of sudden romance. He was more the type of guy to-

Oh, hell no.

Your eyes widened in shock as you realised just what he was up to.

But he'd already taken too many steps down the beach.

"Jake, Jake, no!", you screeched, clawing harder at him, clenching your arms around his neck and trying to climb further up his body. "I swear to god, if you-"

You couldn't even finish your sentence. He'd dropped you down into the ice-cold waves before you could get halfway through your threat.

The only redeeming aspect about this was that he didn't completely dunk you. Your head was still very much above the water, your eyes squeezed shut, your breath held, but no water splashed against your cheeks.

"Jake", you squeaked anyway, clinging to him with all your might as he chuckled. "Oh my god, you bastard!"

You kicked your legs off his arm and straightened, your arms still locked tight around his neck. Yeah, he was a bastard - but he was your bastard. And you were cold, so you pressed even closer against him, wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed your chest right to his.

"Couldn't resist, darling", he grinned, and for some sick, twisted reason, you had to grin too.

"This is not a reward", you could only mutter before you leaned in and kissed him - right there, in the middle of the ocean, after he'd just very much dropped you into the water. God, how you despised him. And how you loved him anyway.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #jake hangman seresin #x reader

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triple-asstro · 2 days

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Hi, I was wondering if I could make a request since I saw that they were open?

Basically it’s the 2012 turtles prompt and how they have a spa date with the reader and how they react towards it? Basically the reader makes it a surprise in which it’s all therapeutic and relaxing for their lover after a long stressful day. There’s face masks or mud masks, nail polish, candles, face rollers, snacks, and a robe of their signature color.

a/n: hello, i am sorry that i'm not as active as i was it's not that i don't hate writing little scenarios like this but more life stuff and just a general need for a break! i'll still answer reqs but expect a slow response if anything love you all <33

Leo

I feel like while he’d be overly ecstatic about it

Especially since we all know he does meditation religiously

Plus he’s excited to spend time with you

He’s nearly silent every time you either paint his nails or place a new face mask on

“Is that patchouli?”

“Shush…Relax. Let your worries wash over like…I don’t know a river.”

He appreciates the amount of effort that was put in, always observing what new trinket you’ve carried in

When you entered in with a basket full of face masks, mud masks, candles, and one stuffy blue ball of fur, you couldn’t tell whether he was scared or ecstatic

He’s overly silent during the entire thing, not wanting to ruin the mask

And when you present the robe, he’s over the moon

He keeps thanking you over and over, almost getting down to his knees before you stop him

You gossip about drama you’ve overheard, and he gossips about his brothers

Raph:

ok let's be honest his form of relaxing is not this

But because it's you, he's willing to try

He’s trying his best to keep his irritance at the lowest level he can

His eyes grow in terror every time you leave and bring back another bag

Thankfully, he's more open to the prospect of more when he gets his robe

It feels like heaven honestly like legitimately like silk combined with wool

he quiets down, watching with an occasional smile

Tries eating the cucumber eye patches

“Can you paint my nails black”

Because he has CRBF (chronic resting bitch face), at first you think he hates it

But he tells you he doesn’t and thanks you afterwards

(potentially wears animal face masks)

Donnie:

Ok we know how much anxiety is trapped in that skinny legend

True, this whole thing was so that for once, he could feel relaxed

But this is Donnie, so it’s going to take a long time

First, you put on the specially made purple robe (he loves it btw)

Probably info dumps about his preferred textures while you put on mud masks

He’ll lay down and you think you got him relaxed

But no, he’ll jolt back up and rant about whatever new invention idea came to mind

Even when he’s exhausted, he seems to never stop thinking

Appreciates the face rollers and nail polish because they make him feel more ‘human’

You talk about your day while you two snack (he probably takes notes of any specific detail you mention for later)

Mikey:

2000s sleepover was the vibe for that session

He’d been exhausted for that entire day, so this made him feel at home

While you guys were relaxing with your face masks on, he suggested watching some movies

Lineup was: Legally Blonde, Wild Child, and Adventure Time

You both end up watching for so long, the masks stain your faces

Gathering snacks in the kitchen and simultaneously watching him attempt to cook

He smiles like a baby deer through the entire thing

Gives surprisingly good advice on whatever you’re ranting about during nails

You give him nice hearts on his nails

Hugs you until you pass out as thanks

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt 2012 headcanons #tmnt #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt donnie #request

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justdissimp · 3 days

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A fitting name

Character: Remus Lupin

Warnings: None - pure fluff

Contents: You have another secret meeting up in the astronomy tower with your best friend (and crush) Remus Lupin. Will tonight be the time you finally confess?

Word-count: 600

A/N: This was written with Marauders-era!Remus in mind but could probably be read as Professor!Lupin as well.

As you sit and look up at the moon, a secretive smile tugs on the corners of your mouth. Your eyes twinkle when you hum under your breath - it almost sounds like you're agreeing to something. Maybe the moon told you something nobody else knows, a secret shared between the two of you. A sigh escapes your lips and you close your eyes. The warmth of his hand on yours is comforting, and you wish this moment could stretch on forever.

Next to you he's fighting an internal battle you stay oblivious to. His gaze locked on the curve of your lips, that look so inviting, it takes his entire willpower to not lean down and brush his own against yours. A soft gust of wind sweeps the hair out of your face, now fully illuminated by the moon, your content expression is making it seem like you sit there basking in its light. He thinks it makes you look ethereal.

You open your eyes again as another breath escapes you. "It's very fitting, you know?"

Slightly startled, Remus hums in acknowledgment. "What is?" he asks, intrigued by your seemingly random prompt.

"Your nickname. Moony," again, a soft smile spreads on your lips the moment his name leaves your mouth. "Moony," you exhale once more, and it is whispered so softly into the night he almost thinks it sounds more like a term of endearment than a nickname. "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

"My name?" he responds, with a slight crease forming between his brows. He's taken aback by your sudden boldness and confused how you came to that conclusion seemingly at random.

You turn your head towards him while you laugh softly into the quiet of the night. "The moon, Remus... I was talking about the moon," angling your face back towards the sky, you continue, "It's stunning, wouldn't you agree?" Remus simply nods. In this moment, he thinks, he'd agree to anything you said. He considers telling you how the moon doesn't compare to you. How every time he catches your eyes his breath hitches, or how he can feel his fingers tingle with the need to reach out whenever you're close enough. How he wishes to lace his fingers through yours or tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He's so close to laying everything he bottled up all this time in front of you right then and there. But alas, he doesn't dare speak up, lest he disturb the serene expression on your face.

He's glad when you continue speaking, breaking his spiraling thoughts. "Almost as breathtaking as you," and when you turn your head to face him again, the expression you wear shatters something in him. Vulnerability radiates off your entire being, from your posture to the slight look of worry in your eyes. There's a beat of silence in which neither of you dares to even breathe. And with a shaky inhale, you carry on. "That's what I meant. A very fitting nickname indeed."

He can only grin at you stupidly before tilting his head down to finally connect his lips with yours. He's hesitant at first, softly squeezing your hand that still lay under his. You can't help but break out into a matching smile, turning into soft giggles. After pulling away, you lean into Remus' chest and mumble "took you long enough." into the fabric of his sweater. Looping his arms around you, he chuckles as he mutters, "I'm sorry." and presses a kiss to the top of your hair.

A/N 2: I'm not super content with the ending so I might add onto this sometime! Lmk if you'd be interested in that :)

#mels braindump #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #fluff #oneshot #marauders #marauders fluff #tooth rotting fluff

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incrediblysincere · 3 months

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Having a job where i have to interact with coworkers all day has really made me notice how bad my social skills are

#like i like focus HARD on the work and i find it really hard to talk at the same time #which is interesting because i know my family/friends probably think i talk TOO much but its totally different depending on who im around #like if im with friends or people i feel really confortable with i can infodump for half an hour on shit they dont care about #but with my coworkers who are all adult men mostly 10+ years older than me and im laying i completely forget to talk #so with me its either non stop bullshit or just that fluoride stare #i know some coworkers are ok with it but i have at least one who clearly isnt a fan of long silences and tries to make conversation and #i realise i CANNOT hold a conversation with him so i probably come off as super boring #and even went prompted (asked a question) i usually just say Okey like ness and then go silent again #i dont mind that much but then sometimes i think back and im like wow. He was trying to talk to me and i probably came off as really boring #or shy or a stuck up bitch. which i dont think im any of #anyway im the 😐🧍autistic for real

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eldritch-nightmare · 2 months

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there's no better feeling in the world than being a killer's favorite during a match frfr

#archived mind of v: thoughts and opinions.#it's 6am and im looking back on some of the clips i have saved nd #i came across one of my matches against the pig nd i was her favorite #it was very cool #not even a minute into the match nd she finds me on a gen nd lets me boop her nose #nd she aggressively nods nd then leaves me be to kill my other teammates #best feeling for sure but also #the guilt. the guilt is real.#one time i had a match against the spirit nd i was her favorite and #i did my damn hardest to keep my team alive but she killed all of them #nd then opened gate and let me leave #and man. man i felt Bad.#i very rarely am ever the killer's favorite bc haha.#but when i am it's either the best feeling in the world or it's a soul-crushing guilty one #anyways. hi. ive been coping by playing dbd. if u could not tell.#i think i'll probably post the cody valentines day prompt when i wake up later #nd maybe if im up for it i can like...#get started on the other two

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ongreenergrasses · 1 year

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for the gestures prompts, 13 or 24 with anyone?

hello Apple 💜 i chose 13, i hope you enjoy!

Joe momentarily has to stand on his tiptoes to keep sight of Nicky as a truly enormous man steps directly into his path. Nicky has both their drinks and is weaving his way expertly through the crowd, almost too fast for Joe to keep up.

He sidesteps the man and catches up quickly to Nicky, who didn’t seem to notice their brief separation.

Joe knows it’s fine. They’re in a club, they have cell phones. It’s not that hard for them to find each other.

That doesn’t stop him from snaking his finger into Nicky’s belt loop and pulling him closer, so they won’t get separated again.

Nicky looks back over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow. Joe smiles as brightly as he can and then presses a smacking kiss to Nicky’s cheek. “So I don’t lose you,” he says.

Nicky rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. “You’ll never lose me.”

Joe’s a little stunned by that statement. He plasters himself to Nicky’s side, thumb still hooked in his belt loop, and kisses his shoulder.

He loves Nicky so much that it hurts, sometimes.

Nicky says nothing in response, just hums, and guides him back to their table.

meaningful gestures

#ask and you shall receive #wastelandbebe #the old guard #joe x nicky #yusuf al kaysani #joe al kaysani #nicolo di genova #nicky #this one is short ik but it came into my mind as I was making dinner and it felt complete 💜#by making dinner i mean. heating up the greatest food of all time the frozen samosas from [redacted]#prompts

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quietwingsinthesky · 1 year

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18 + Castiel/Crowley for the hug prompts

tight and desperate hug huh. there are so many crowstiel eras i could have set this in that made perfect sense. that would be great to write in.

anyway here's endverse.

|| AO3 || DW || FFNet || PF || SW || WC: 500

"High again, are we? It's becoming a pattern." Castiel is on the floor. He can't remember exactly when he got there, but he knows how. He'll always know how. There's nowhere else to end up when your wings get cut. He blinks his eyes open blearily. There's a familiar face staring down at him, and his expression doesn't hold pity or disgust. Only the terrible aching empathy of being the last left.

"Come to ask us to hide you?" Castiel asks, as though he has the power to make that decision. Dean would shoot Crowley where he stands. Crowley's mouth twists into something that could have been a smile, once. It's all ash, now.

"Do I need a reason to visit my favorite angel?" Castiel should probably get off the floor. He's naked, and he's cold, and he was human long enough to love and lose hot showers. Then again, whenever Crowley usually shows up while Castiel is nude, they end up fucking. He stays longer when they have sex. He doesn't taunt Castiel for the way he clings.

"Compared against who? Lucifer?" Crowley stiffens at the name. Castiel doesn't. So goes their mutual senses of self-preservation. "You shouldn't call me that, anyway."

"You are what you are," Crowley argues.

"Until I'm not," Castiel says back, "and I'm not."

He waits for Crowley to snipe at him again. It never comes. Something splintered and horrible as rotting driftwood lodges in Castiel's gut. "Why are you here, Crowley?"

“Like I said, isn’t it enough to want to see you?” Castiel stands up to get a better look at him. He's more well kempt than anyone else in the Apocalypse. All that lingering hellfire in his body has to be good for something other than running away, and Crowley uses it to iron his suits. "You are the one who leaves the devil's trap open." In the very first end days, that invitation had been open to any demon who dared. Now, Crowley's the only one who it would keep out.

Castiel is still alive for the sake of loyalty. Crowley is still alive for- He might call it cleverness. Castiel would call him a coward and mean it as a compliment. Most of the people who made it past the end of the world were cowards. The brave ones all got themselves killed.

He’d never want Crowley to be brave or loyal.

"Don't go." It's a useless thing to ask of him, and so Castiel says it with very little hope. Crowley was never an angel. He's hardly even been a friend. He has been a constant, and even, at times, someone who makes the dying world a little brighter. Now, in his eyes, Castiel sees the same fear he's seen in bitten men before they're shot to spare them the virus.

Crowley says nothing but wraps him in a hug so hard it bruises Castiel's ribs. Castiel holds tight, until he can't, and he doesn't.

He never sees Crowley again.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

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