#pining and yearning

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDs Men React to You Being Whipped for Them

AN: Is it love, if not bound by subtle insanity?

Pairing: LaDs x GN Reader

Emily Bronte (Wuthering Heights): “He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

Yearning Event

Xavier:

"Sit," you say, practically shoving him onto the bed. "Sleep. On time. For once."

You tuck him in with a look that brooks no argument. "You're going nowhere tonight. I don't care if the world ends. It can wait until morning."

Xavier blinks up at you from under the blanket, wide-eyed. He never imagined he'd live to see the day someone forced him to sleep. He slept plenty as is, but this? This was different.

You lean in, palm cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over his pout. "Not sleepy?" you ask, voice soft, lips close.

And then the little gremlin bites your finger. Gently. But still. His eyes glimmer. "Can't sleep," he whispers. "Not tired enough."

He gives you the look. You know the one.

You’re not sure if you want to fight him or kiss him breathless. Possibly both.

Rafayel:

He knows you’re whipped. And he lives for it.

This? This is his dream come true. You, hovering with tissues and cough drops. You, his personal bodyguard, ready to throw hands at anyone who so much as sneezes in his direction.

He flashes smug little smiles at everyone who sees you fuss over him. Sips his tea like royalty. Winks like the menace he is.

Cue: entire exhibition crowd watching you dig through your bag for lozenges because his voice might sound hoarse.

He’s a sucker for love, but terrified to be the first one to say it. So when you pour your heart out first?

He’s free. Free to adore you with all the softness he’s hidden for years. Free to give back everything he’s been aching to share.

He’ll never say it, but this kind of love? This saves him.

Zayne:

He doesn’t know what to do with this. Not at first.

You bring him lunch at work. Spend weeks researching ways to break the curse. Kiss every scar like it’s sacred.

Everyone around you sees it. The way you’re gently, beautifully spoiling him. And they love it. They love this for him.

And slowly… so does he.

At first, he’s confused. Then touched. Then quite overwhelmed.

Because he’s never had this before. Not like this. Not so deliberate. So quietly certain. But over time, it settles in his chest like warmth. Like a memory he never had but always wanted. Like home.

And when he finally learns how to return it. When he stops being afraid of breaking it... oh, gods. You’ll drown in it.

Because Zayne doesn’t love in halves. He just never thought he was allowed to have this.

Sylus:

He’s supposed to be the suave one. The smooth-talker. The charm incarnate. The planner. The tease.

But your easy, unrelenting affection? It undoes him.

“What next?” he asks, leaning down to tilt your chin up. “You going to complain next? ‘Sylus, why can’t you ever plan anything in advance?’” He mocks your voice with a grin, cocky and effortless.

But your smile doesn’t waver. You just wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. Like you always have.

“No,” you murmur. “I think it’s an excellent idea to take a vacation. Thanks for planning, Sylus.” You say his name so gently. So sure. Then kiss him with painstaking care.

And he’s stunned. Just… still. A blush creeping in. Throat tight. Something in his chest cracks open.

“Well,” he says, voice lower now. No teasing this time, just a quiet, genuine warmth. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Gods help him. You’re too good at this.

Caleb:

You’re both the problem. The gooey couple that makes strangers jealous and your kids roll their eyes.

Your love is obnoxiously mutual. Like something ripped from a bard’s over-the-top romance ballad. And he lives for it.

He’s jealous by nature. Territorial. But with you? He has never felt more safe. You never give him reason to doubt. Never make him feel like he’s too much.

To be cared for so deeply, to be someone’s center of gravity, it heals something ancient in him. It’s the love he didn’t know he was allowed to have. And gods, he guards it with everything he is.

Because in your eyes? He’s not a colonel. Not a soldier. Not a weapon. He’s just Caleb. And he is so, so loved.

[ehay]

[tragedy-machine]

The other half of my soul

[admirationandromantics]

Gettogether

An idea that came to mind. The day before the disappearance of Hannah and Beth. You and Chris have a thing for one another, and it escalates. The original idea was putting eyeliner on him, and I had so much fun writing it!!

PS! Involves drinking and sexual themes (18++)

Word count: 1,7 k (Unedited!)

Everyone is laughing while sitting in the uneven circle. Emily and Jess went to the kitchen a while ago and are still gone. Jess was the first to stand up, a mischievous look plastered on her face. Her excuse was mixing a new drink, and she forcibly dragged Emily with her while laughing. I don’t know what they’re planning, but it must be good since I occasionally hear loud snickers coming from them. 

While the others talk I glance over at Chris. He’s sitting at the other side. Not on the sofa, but below it, using it only as back support. In his hand is his fifth beer. At least not less than that. He’s wearing a dark green sweater, which suits him perfectly, curving at the best angles. Suddenly he brings his eyes up, meeting mine. A bit of blush covers him, but I’m probably just seeing things. Shit. I look away quickly, not feeling the heat on my cheeks. I do know it's there though. Luckily, the dim light and alcohol makes it almost impossible to see, I hope. In the corner of my eyes I see Josh whisper something to him, and they both look at me. I need some air, or at least a reason to get out a little. The storm outside is not slowing down, and is said to be even stronger tomorrow, so I wouldn’t dare to actually go outside. For now, I’m keeping calm. I should just try to join the conversation. 

Mike is talking about his latest occurrence at the gym. He was apparently hit on by a girl, and it was quite an ordeal. While he’s talking I notice long stares shifting between Sam and Josh. I automatically smile and signal to Ashley and Beth to look. They notice and then both look at each other. We have to do something. Before I get an idea, Hannah turns beside me, looking strongly at my face. I stiffen, and give her a look. 

“Everything okay Hannah?”

She loosens up, laughs a little. 

“Yeah yeah, sorry”.

She shifts before moving her hand up to her own face. 

“Your mascara is a bit smudged, want me to fix it for you?” 

Oh. I haven’t touched up my makeup since I put it on in the morning. I thank her, but tell her how it probably all needs to be fixed, so I would do it quickly in the bathroom. 

“Let me know if you need anything”.

“Thanks Han!” I shout while walking up the stairs. 

I hear whispers behind me, but can’t make out what they’re saying. Instead of trying, I quickly get my make-up bag from my room and go to the bathroom. My mascara is not a bit smudged. It’s very smudged. How didn’t I notice before? I clean it up before deciding to redo both my eyeliner and mascara. The highlighter is still going strong and I have a hint of the eyeshadow present. I will only take three minutes max. 

Right before completion, Chris burst into the room. I give a screech before covering my mouth. 

“Gosh I’m incredibly sorry” he says with hands covering his eyes. My heart rate slows and I give a giggle before walking over to him and pulling his hands down. 

“I was just wondering if you wanted some company?” 

“No other reason for coming here?” I ask while walking back to the mirror. 

“Well, I don’t know, maybe” he mumbles. I can’t make out the rest as he sits down on the chair beside me. I complete the last part of my makeup before looking down at him. 

“You’re really good at that” he says while pointing up at the mascara wand. 

“Do you know what this is?”

A long silence falls, and before I can tease him, he says it’s for the eyes. I smile at him while he’s sitting there, very proud. 

“Do you want some?” I ask, taking out my eyeliner pencil from the bag. 

“Me? Absolutely not, I’m not putting that junk on my face”

My eyes narrow a bit, and he quickly follows up. 

“But you look great though, beautiful, hot, sexy everything you know, just…” 

As I get closer, he gets up from the stool and backs away. 

“Hey hey, I told you I didn’t want any of that”

I get in front of the door, locking it. 

“You didn’t just do that”

“I believe I did”

“You’re gonna pay if you put that thing on me”

“Oh please” I plead. “Just a little on the undereye, you would look dazzling”. 

“Nope, not a chance”. I think about the rest of the night, trying to remember something that I can use. I know. 

“Think of it as a form of payback for scaring the shit out of me when you walked in.”

He smirks. “Payback?” 

“And you thought I was naked for a second as well” I hurriedly add. 

“Damn you, fine. But only this time”. 

Chris is a funny and smart man, but thank goodness he also has integrity. I take his arm and lead him down to the floor. I have to release him as soon as he gets where he’s meant to be. I can’t help thinking about what’s under his clothing. He’s strong, I know he is. 

With his back against the bathtub, I carefully sit down on his lap. His breath stops for a moment, and I quickly lift myself up from him again. My own breath holds, and I look away. Boundaries, I seem to forget sometimes that we’re just friends. 

“Sorry, it’s just easier this way, we can do it some other way if you want.” As I turn around I feel his hand grabbing mine, dragging me down on him again. Both his hands are placed on either side of my hips. 

“No it’s fine, really. I was just surprised.” His grip is firm, and I can feel my face heat up once again. He takes my expression as a sign to drag me closer to him. Chest to chest. My breath is uneven, and I notice a faint blush on his cheeks. 

“So, are we gonna do it?” he asks. I’m stumped. 

“Wait what?”

“With that scary sharp thing you’re going to put in my eye”. His comment takes me out of my trance, and I give a genuine smile. 

“It’s not going inside your eye, just under it” I laugh, and he looks down. He shares my laugh before quickly taking hold of my waist, getting my face closer to his. His breath is on my chin. I’ve never felt as hot as I do now, like I’m steaming. He looks down at my lips before returning to my eyes. Then, in a swift motion, I meet his lips. My arms automatically go over his shoulders and in his hair, whilst his take all over my back, pressing me even closer if that’s possible. The kiss is warm and wet, and it doesn’t stop. I barely get any small breaks for breathing, making my head go a bit dizzy. I feel euphoric, and I can’t believe it’s actually happening. In the small breaks, he manages to make out a few words. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this”. I mumble a little ‘me too’ back, as I feel his fingers on my skin, under my shirt. 

“Fuck” I mumble, getting even hotter. How am I suppose to take this? And on the bathroom floor? 

“Chris?”

“Mhmm?”

“Where is all this confidence coming from?”

“Pent up energy”

He starts kissing my neck, moving down to my collarbone. 

“And some drinks of bravery”

“Got it”

He finds my spot, making me moan out his name. As we’re going on, I suddenly hear faint voices. 

“I told you it would work”

“I’m the perfect matchmaker”

I pull away. Chris looks confused, breathless, and needy, looking up at me with pleading eyes. 

“Wha-” I stop him with my hand. I know who it is. Tucking down my shirt, I quickly open the door and catch Josh and Hannah with their ears against the wall. I cough. Loudly. They both turn at the same time with completely different reactions. Hannah slowly backs away before running down the stairs, while Josh faces me with a smirk. 

“I told you he liked you, but you didn’t believe me,” he says. I give him a confused glare in return. 

“You know, I’m the reason this happened, I’m the perfect matchmaker.” he looks through the door, winking at Chris, who rolls his eyes. 

“I just had to make sure something happened, and knowing how skittish you are made it a perfect bonding moment”

“Josh, what the h-”

He interrupts, “But at the same time, if something were to happen, it can’t happen in there. We got people who want to use the bathroom tonight”. 

I can’t do anything but nod. The mood is ruined anyway. Chris appears behind me, one hand used for leaning against the door. 

“Dude, we had like, a moment”

“Yeah bro, and I’m sorry about that, but just do it somewhere else” he winks before walking away, joining the others. I then feel a hand going up my side, turning me around. I look up at him, and his perfect sweet face. 

“We should probably talk about this before we do anything.” he whispers. I nod in agreement. 

“Though, we’ve both been drinking, so this isn’t the time” I add. He smiles down at me, taking my face in his palms before lifting my chin. 

“What about tomorrow?”

“That sounds good” I turn around to join the others while taking his hand with me. I’m stopped by him and dragged into his embrace. 

“But, we could also just go to my room” he whispers against my ear. I think about it. I truly want to, but Josh kind of ruined it. 

“Isn’t the mood kinda low right now?” 

“Let me show you how good I am at picking up the mood then” he says, tracing a finger down my neck. Fuck he’s good. I grab ahold of his hand, dragging him with me. 

“Wait wait, that’s all it took?” he asks, clearly confused. 

“Yep” I reply. “Especially when you look like that and talk in such a manner”

“I had a whole thing planned, like, you know, stuff and things like that”. 

“Use them next time” 

“Will that be later tonight?”

“Of course”. As we’ve agreed he locks the door and turns around. Before I know it, I’m slammed against the bed, him immediately going on top and kissing me.

“I could do this all night” I say between kisses. 

“Good, cause we’re gonna”

[metalmiez]

Dancing at the Ritz

Their eyes met; the angel grinned, and the demon’s face went all pink and flustered. Aziraphale laughed, from the bottom of her heart, let herself fall backward, because she knew Crowley would never drop her. His left arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly. He bowed into her motion, his warm breath caressing her neck. Out of breath, she let herself pull back up, still giggling and noticed the most beautiful smile on Crowley’s face, more genuine than ever before. He enjoyed that dance a lot. Their faces were so close now that their noses almost touched, chest to chest, both breathing hard. She couldn’t recall when she had been working out this physically before. Her face felt like it was on fire, warmth crept though her whole corporation and Aziraphale had the indistinct feeling that she should float. She felt so happy.   Her arm was wrapped around Crowley’s shoulders, and he held her tightly. He was such a beautiful thing, and this smile made him look even more stunning, starfire burning in these gorgeous golden eyes.

Title: Dancing at the Ritz

Rating: Teen and up

Summary:

London, 1945. The war is over. Humanity rejoyces. There is a big party at the Ritz. And Crowley got his infernal hands on two tickets. It is time for a date clandestine meeting. Aziraphale waits with a surprise of his own...

Whew. Welcome back! It has been a good 9 months since I posted my oneshot "Hat Swap" (which I highly recomment you to read before you start this one <3). It has been a while. But this story never left me.

There was something to it I can't describe. I just loooove them in the 1940s. Actually, shortly after I posted Hat Swap in June 2024, I started to write this "little" sequel (she laughs, while she looks at the 10k words). It had A LOT of time to simmer. And I already have an idea for a Part 3. So it has become an official Series now <3 I hope you love this fic and this drawing as much as I do <3

[pininghermit]

To Linger is to Love

AN: I was so pissed after reading 17 year old love interests that I had to write a better one. It was urgent and very much necessary to write it before a block. (Arwen coded reader goes so well with him)

Genre: romance and pining

Pairing(s): Vampire hunter D x Elven Reader

Summary: You are an elf, your time on this earth long since passed. Most of your kin have vanished into their blessed realm, leaving behind only echoes. Yet you linger, bound to a world that no longer sings your name. For him.

Long have I sought your path, son of Dracula," you whisper, and D turns, the moonlight painting your face in silver, a vision etched from the dreams of the old world.

Once again, you have slipped through the veil of sound, your steps so light that even his supernatural senses faltered. Such silence belongs only to the eldest of beings, elves of forest and sea, who carry the light of a world shrouded in memory.

Yours is a light that lingers like the final notes of a song, woven into the very fabric of the earth. Elves, the true nobility of the old world, are what his kind have always sought to emulate, though they never could.

Now you stand before him, timeless and haunting, and D drinks in your presence as a wanderer drinks rain. He cannot help himself.

Even the shadow of his father’s name, the sacred Ancestor, fades to irrelevance in this moment. Too many lifetimes have passed since last he saw you; too many moments stolen by the cruel march of time.

In your eyes, he sees the weariness wrought by his absence, a sorrow deeper than grief, as though the world itself has tried to erase you. Yet you remain, defiant and whole.

When your hand rises to touch his cheek, he cannot resist. Your touch, featherlight and eternal, undoes him. You lift his hat, and he bows into your palm as though seeking absolution.

Of all the souls he has encountered, damsels in peril, admirers, and mourners—none have touched his heart. His heart has been yours, always yours, claimed by the fairest creature of the old earth.

You, the princess of long-forgotten elves. You, the moonlight upon your father’s valley. A star fallen to a world that no longer deserves you.

“I am not welcome in your halls,” D murmurs, his voice low and weak to your unyielding gaze. The words are truth; your father, lord of the elves, bears no love for him. To your kin, he is an intruder. A dhampir who defies the old ways.

But elves have little love for any beyond themselves and their kin. However, their immortal hearts were more easily swayed by vampires than by men who destroy their sacred groves.

You smile, a secret held in the curve of your lips. "When did my father’s disapproval ever stop you?" you ask, your voice a melody that hums in the air. Even the simplest words are a song, a fragment of the music that shaped the world.

With playful grace, you tug gently at his ear. D, ever the stoic, leans into the gesture without protest. He would not harm you, even in jest.

"My heart is my own to give," you say, the eternal debate stirring again between you, inevitable as the tides.

D frowns, though in your presence, even this resistance feels like a burden. "It is no life for you," he counters, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"Listen to your father. Return to your world." He steps back, the absence of your touch leaving an ache he cannot name. The grief in your eyes strikes him like a blade.

How many times have you stood like this, warring with love and duty?

He is dhampir, trapped between worlds, cursed to atone for his father’s sins. Neither mortal nor immortal, something forever between.

You are an elf, your time on this earth long since passed. Most of your kin have vanished into their blessed realm, leaving behind only echoes. Yet you linger, bound to a world that no longer sings your name. For him.

The forests will fall, as all things do, to the greed of men. Your kin will dwindle, their blood staining the soil that birthed them. D cannot bear to imagine you among them, cannot endure the thought of your light extinguished in this broken world.

“Life and death are not meant to coexist,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “This world is not yours. To remain here will bring only sorrow.”

Your gaze holds his, steady and enduring, as though it has borne the weight of eternity itself. There is no anger, only unshakable resolve that cuts through his darkness. “Then I choose sorrow by your side over an eternity apart,” you reply, your words gentle but firm, like ancient trees weathering countless storms.

A breath catches in D’s throat, but you do not relent. “You and my father may forbid our union,” you continue, a melody filled with pain and defiance. “And I shall comply. I cannot force you to love me, but I will not stop loving you. If you do not wish my company, then I shall remain here, waiting, until my heart fades into this earth, forgotten as my kind has been.”

For a moment, your eyes blaze with a light so fierce it sears him, cutting through the walls around his heart. It is not a sharp pain, but a deeper ache, the agony of yearning for what cannot be.

D is silent, his breath heavy with unspoken words. In your wisdom, he finds no argument, no foothold to deny the truth you have laid bare. For all his efforts to save you, all his noble intentions, he has only brought you suffering.

And yet, in your gaze, there is no blame. Only love. Unfathomable, undying.

He turns his head, as though the sight of you is too much to bear, but your image lingers behind his closed eyes. How cruel it is that the one thing he cannot allow is the one thing he desires above all else.

“You deserve more,” he murmurs, his voice faltering. “More than I can give. More than this life will allow.”

“And yet,” you answer softly, stepping closer, “it is you I have chosen.”

For a long moment, D doesn’t move. His hand hovers over yours, trembling, before finally closing around it, warm and firm. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so delicate it feels like an apology, a promise, and a farewell all at once.

“I shall love you to my end,” he whispers, his voice heavy with a sorrow he cannot escape. “Never will you carry the burden of heartbreak, for my heart will always be yours. Yet there is no union for our tale.”

You rest your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart beneath the leather a comfort against the ache of his words. The faint scent of jasmine drifts from you, wrapping around him like a memory he can never quite hold.

“So be it,” you murmur, your voice soft, steady. “I shall not ask for a union, as long as we walk under the same stars, as long as the winds speak of you, and for so long as I am able to await your return.”

[that-willowtree]

What if instead of Jayce being forced through literal hell, he got the Ekko treatment and instead went to an AU where he and viktor were happy together? And he had to force himself to find the strength to return back to his original dimension. I’d really like to see like a jayvik fic of this

[daydreamer131313]

James is tired.

He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he damn sure is tired.

Remus and Sirius just will not shut up. Whenever Sirius is even a minute late to the marauders prank plotting sessions, Remus goes all toxic on him saying he’s putting his girls in the way off marauders business. The ‘girls’ is spoken with such a venomous tone, which Remus never even applies when referring to snivellius.

Sirius on the other hand, hates whoever Remus hangs out with other than the marauders. Walks with Marlene, Study sessions without all of them, and hogsmead visits with his Hufflepuff friend. All of them leave him in a sour mood.

Sirius really hates the Hufflepuff friend. James doesn’t even know what the blokes name is because Sirius made so many variations of them, each of them subtlety insulting the poor boy.

Thats all they do now. Fight Fight Fight. It’s disturbing his sleep. When they’re not fighting, they’re giving each other the silent treatment. The latter is sometimes bearable.

The third option is what confuses him the most. They have these moments where both of them are so nice to each other. The way they touch each other, The teasing jokes they make, the way they look at each other. If one of them would’ve been a girl, assumptions of them dating would have been unavoidable.

But they’re not girls.

James had no idea what’s happening, but he sure hopes his best friends do.

[patchs-curiosity-corner]

Hey so what if I hypothetically write a Spencer Reid x oc fic that takes place at JJ’s wedding where Spencer is pining over her but she thinks he’s still in love with JJ and is pining over him.

Overall lots of pining and yearning. What do we think?

[raindragon-20]

The saga of pining!Remus continues. He yearns so beautifully and its always about Sirius ✨😌

Excerpt from (my attempted very slowburn fic) Brick By Brick by Raindragon20 Chapter 8: Moony, Padfoot, Mate

[practicefortheheart]

All of you talking about wanting their blorbos crying and bleeding on the floor: read the Nightrunner series

[girlofthemoon33]

I'm so gay for them its unreal. I just wanna hold them close and warm them with my natural body heat. Something I would've never thought about before, how much my body heat would be loved, is another thing in a lost of many of what they love about me. Amd the fact i act like a hit water bottle for them during their period too. The fact my body and their desires match naturally is just... Incredible.

[stellanslashgeode]

Yup. I guess I'm writing Moder Day AUs now.

In this one Ashoka is a fanfiction writer for a Star Wars-like franchise. A few months back a mysterious archive user by the name of Skyshale started gifting her podfics of all her works featuring her favorite ship. She's left many comments and likes, but the user does not answer, and does not leave author's notes. All she knows is their voice. But that's enough to fall for.

@swsapphics-ao3feed

[the-ineffable-dance]

A River of Stars, Ch. 3

Chapter 3: A Kiss and A Promise

Rating: T

Summary:

Aziraphale did his best to abide by the ruling of the council, but when the Starmaker draws him out to watch the wonders of creation, Aziraphale can no longer hide his feelings. Late to his training with Lucifer once again, Heaven decides enough is enough. If Aziraphale and the Starmaker won't listen to the Metatron, the Almighty herself will have to step in.

Excerpt:

“A shooting star,” the Starmaker explained, turning his companion to face him.  He pushed Aziraphale’s hands together as though in prayer, delighting in the expressions of joy he saw there.  “Close your eyes,” he whispered, moving closer, closing his hands around the cherub’s.  “And make a wish.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes.  A wish… angels weren’t designed to want things.  They were made to serve.  Duty had always come first.  He hadn’t ever really considered what he would want.  Lost in thought, the soft press of warm lips against his took him completely by surprise. 

“This is my wish,” Starmaker whispered.

@fairytalegobang @goodomensafterdark

[my-trashbin]

me to devs when the game has a web version

[enemyofinnocence]

Sing Me Softly [Chapter 4 Release]

by EnemyOfInnocence

AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58924588/chapters/150426121

Summary: To save the North, Sansa Stark must flee Winterfell and defeat the Mad Queen, who killed Jon Snow in the capital. To save her house, she must sit the Iron Throne. To save herself, she must trust House Stark's greatest enemy — Petyr Baelish, who evaded death itself. To save the Seven Kingdoms, she must face the complicated feelings he stirs in her heart.

Story Tags/Warnings:

Enemies to lovers, hate to love, scheming, forced proximity, sharing a bed, unhealthy relationships, dead Jon Snow, mentions of past rape/non-con (Ramsay Bolton), Petyr Baelish in love, age gap, dark romance, sweet romance, mild angst with a happy ending, author regrets nothing (inappropriate use of author's talents)