#wolfpad

xoxo to @microdamage & @my-castles-crumbling for the tag ♡

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyway!

gin & clarity [draco/harry]

“I think Malfoy is up to something.”

i carry it in my heart [remus/sirius]

“You owe me for this.” “Absolutely not, we’re here because you owe me.” 

so it is [teddy/james sirius]

The stakes are high, higher than they’ve ever been.

Penchant for Pearls [james/regulus]

📷 rblxckcat                      now prongs.f.potter liked your post Distractedly, Regulus pulls his phone from his pocket and manages the barest glance at the screen before it unlocks, thankful for the opportunity to ignore Barty’s complaints about the song that just came on. 

If you're the art, I'll be the brush [james/regulus]

As the flight attendants unseal the door and lower the stairs to the tarmac, Regulus Black slowly comes to.

someday [remus/sirius]

“Where is my….” Remus mutters to himself, slapping hanger against hanger in his closet with increasing intensity until he huffs out a breath and yells out, “Lily! Have you seen my sweater anywhere?!” Although summer is technically around the corner, nights in the city are still relatively cool and no ordinary sweater will do for tonight’s event. How could he have misplaced it?!

it's a craving, not a crush [remus/sirius]

The cold stone walls are a blur as Sirius books it down corridor after corridor, the distant sound of a cat’s meow haunting his every step. It’s well after midnight and they have no excuse for being out of bed at this hour except for being up to no good.  “In here!” Sirius has barely registered the whispered shout when a hand yanks him by the back of the shirt into an oft-ignored broom closet. The door mercifully shuts silently with not a single creak of the hinges, their laboured breathing all too deafening in the tight space.

devotus [regulus & sirius]

5 January 1977 Sirius,  I don’t  What if Maman– Maman and Papa have been hosting often of late. Some of the guests were speaking of when I would be joining that madman’s ranks, not "if." He was there as well. I did my best to stay out of his sight, like you always said. but I don’t think it helped

I'll Rise, In Spite of the Ache [james/regulus]

It started with a letter.

Hooked On You [remus/sirius]

The air was heavy when Sirius walked through the pub doors; it was laced with body heat and overlapping tones of friends catching up and strangers turning into lovers, vibrating with the bass from The Aurors playing their latest original song on the slightly elevated, questionably sturdy stage in the corner. Voices belted out ‘Cheers!’ to his left, the following clink clink clink of glasses faded as he passed, navigating his way through the throng of patrons waiting for their turn at the bar and seeking out the familiar rounded booth in the back corner. 

(i didn't include my flash fest pieces or microfics since those are not full length)

no pressure tags (hopefully you haven't been tagged yet?): @xjustkay @yourfriendlygryffindor @starsworth @thecouchsofa @tackytigerfic @languagelessonswolfstar @just--vi @peaceinpanem & anyone else who'd like to play and hasn't already !

10 lines from the middle of 10 fics & tagging 10 people :)

thank you thank you for the tags: @thecouchsofa (here) @my-castles-crumbling (here) @galaxoshine XO (and here) -- you're all so crazy talented & this fandom is blessed to get your words

OKAY here we go:

Night Blooming, Dawn Looming: (Sirius x Remus | E | 14.4k)

The silence in the shop is oppressive when the flames extinguish, the air hot and expectant. Sirius focuses on slowing his breathing, on willing his fingers to cease their constant twirling of his wand. With one last exhale, Sirius braces himself and looks at Remus. Bright eyes of gold—Moony’s eyes—stare back at him, almost entirely swallowed whole by the bottomless black at their centre. It sends a wave of shock down Sirius’s spine, to see that gaze on Remus’s face. Their predicament is so much worse than he thought—meaning they have even less time to fix this than the book stated. For a moment, they simply remain there: Remus, straight-backed, jaw locked, tension coiled tight, cracking his neck and licking his lips, waiting; Sirius, folded knees digging into the brick, grey eyes wide and pleading, his dark hair mussed from anxiously running his fingers through it, stalling. Finally, Sirius opens his mouth. “Remus—” “No.”

gin & clarity: (Harry x Draco | E | 8.6k)

The crowd is a blur of shapes and noise, and the man with Draco is a complete mystery; all Harry can recall is that he’s nearly as tall as Draco, has black hair and wandering hands. Otherwise, he’s entirely faceless.  Draco, on the other hand, is in focus, clear, lucid. Practically tangible. He watches Draco sway to the beat, his long fingers trailing down his neck, his sternum, catching in the flimsy buttons of his shirt. He sees his lips quirk up to one side, mouth open, pink tongue peeking out. Harry notices a bead of sweat trailing the hinge of his jaw, falling down his flushed, slender throat, and has the bizarre urge to rewind time, to step closer, to lick the droplet—to be the droplet. Then he sees foreign hands run up Draco’s hips and sneak under the fabric of his shirt, a nose brush against his throat, lips dragging against his beating pulse where Harry’s should— Crack.

i carry it in my heart: (Sirius x Remus | E | 120k)

It takes a second for Remus to realise he’s been waxing poetic about the moon and stars in response to Sirius’s simple question. He stumbles over his words, self-conscious. “Um, yeah, I just...I think I would choose the night because I could stare at the moon and stars forever and always be in awe, in one way or another. I think I’d like to spend my life that way. It seems like such a peaceful existence.” He huffs out a self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry, bit of a long winded answer, there,” he concludes finally, feeling a bit vulnerable for some reason. Sirius is quiet for a moment, long enough that Remus thinks he may have fallen asleep. “Don’t apologise,” he mumbles, voice rough, “it was beautiful. The moon and the stars…You know I’m named after a star?” “I do know, yes.” Remus smiles, turning in his bed to face his window and immediately finds the brightest star in the sky. A pause. “I think I’d like to look at the moon forever, too.”

so it is: (Teddy x James Sirius | E | 22.5k)

“The blue was my favourite. I miss it. You know the one?” After a beat, Teddy’s expression lights up in surprise. “From the holiday we went on? The one with the Malfoys in the South of France all those years ago?” James nods eagerly, pleased Teddy remembers. Before his eyes, Teddy changes it again and James lets out an involuntary gasp. The colour is uncanny. It was the exact same hue of the water, there. At the time, James never wanted to leave. He was so upset they couldn’t stay in the sun and sand forever, swimming and playing and riding the waves. Teddy wore his hair that colour for the rest of the summer, until he went back to Hogwarts. Seeing it now, it feels like a tether to another, simpler time, when they spent nearly every day together; when every day was spent grinning at his best friend. Teddy’s smile blooms. “Yeah?”  James, his throat swelling, nods. “You’ll keep it?” Teddy squeezes his hand. “If you like.” James squeezes back. “C’mon, let’s get out of here, yeah?”

devotus: (Regulus & Sirius | M | 11.5k)

Do you remember when we went to Cornwall estate, when you were ten and I was nine, before everything changed? It was so much simpler then. You taught me the constellations and we slept under the stars until dawn. It’s one of my fondest memories of you. Do you think that, in every lifetime, we’re apart? Broken and estranged? Do you think you always hate me, the way I hate you? That is to say, not at all, and with the worst sort of longing? I hope that, in at least one, we’re okay, and whole.  I’ll think of you, and that night in Cornwall, as I often do. Of the constellations and the night sky. In one way or another, you will be with me and that will be enough. Take care of him. Ta petite étoile,  R.A.B.

I'll Rise (In Spite of the Ache): (Regulus & James | E | 29.3k)

Regulus nods his head in answer, concentrating on not overdoing it. “Of course. That’s great, I’m glad you had a good time. Did it end up being a late night?” “Nah, not too late. I was pretty knackered, anyway, from the holidays so I left not long after dinner and just went to bed early.”  The way James frowns and shakes his head, the way it comes so easily to him, the lie, it momentarily floors Regulus. He could see James smiling and hugging everyone goodbye, waving to those he doesn’t know quite as well but who are already fond of That James Potter. Sees him arrive at his building and jog up the steps, enter his flat and throw his coat, his Arrows scarf, over the nearest chair. Toe off his new red shoes. Strips to his pants and dives into the bed—completely devoid of Regulus’s presence—and passes out, tired from days of socialising.  It takes him a moment to remember it’s all a beautifully crafted fabrication. How embarrassing for you, the cold voice says, to have actually believed he would look at you and not find you wanting.

it's a craving, not a crush: (Sirius x Remus | E | 8.8k)

He can’t lie, the position is hot, especially with the way Remus continues to stare at him, not backing down. Well, Sirius isn’t going to be the first to break eye contact, that’s for sure, but he admires the effort. “Just what I thought,” Remus mumbles, forcing Sirius’s vision to the lips just a breath away. “Sirius Black: all talk.” —Excuse me? If that isn’t a challenge, Sirius doesn’t know what is. And if there’s one thing Sirius doesn’t do, it’s back down from one. He’s going to make Remus Lupin eat his words, and be the first to back out of their little showdown. He truly has no idea who he’s teasing and taunting like this.  Slowly, Sirius lifts a hand and lays it on Remus’s chest. Amber eyes flick down and back up in question. With the tiniest push, Remus takes a step back, letting his arms fall to his sides. His expression starts to take on one of triumph but stalls when Sirius uses the distance to leisurely fall to his knees, making sure that Remus follows his path and is aware of the implication.

Hooked On You: (Sirius x Remus | E | 40.7k)

“Oh, we’re not—” Sirius says, looking at Remus in almost concern, which strikes him as strange; surely if it were James, he would’ve laughed at that comment, no? “I mean, we’re here for me, but just as friends.” Remus nods, ignoring the fracture lines permeating his heart. These words aren’t telling him anything he didn’t already know, he reminds himself.  “Yup,” he agrees, popping the ‘P’ in emphasis, looking back at Sirius with a careful expression, “just friends.” The crease between Sirius’s eyebrow deepens imperceptibly either at Remus’s words or the distant way he spoke them, perhaps both. Remus doesn’t waste a moment considering it. “Oh, that’s no matter,” Pandora laughs melodically, waving her hand in front of her with elegant strokes, “two makes a pair, a pair makes a couple, does it not? Come, come. Tell me what you’re looking for and we’ll see what we can find you.” Abruptly, and yet with a dancer-like cadence, she turns to travel further into her store, disappearing amongst the silk, satin, and lace.

Penchant for Pearls: (Regulus x James | E | WIP)

So when he’s on stage, he moves with a purpose he doesn’t have to think about. His brain shuts off, he gives himself over to the music; to the strings under his fingers, the microphone at his lips, the cues they’ve long ago worked out, the caress of the light on his face, the way his mind is at peace and his heart sings louder than any of the fans before him.  Music is his escape even as it’s a part of his genetic makeup. He lives and breathes it, runs off with it, finds solace in it on a raised platform in front of two hundred people in a small venue that’s been around since World War I. The gazes of many can’t touch him here, even as they have their fill. He isn’t simply Regulus Black on this stage, forced to endure long-suffering awkward silences or painstaking small talk; he doesn’t have to court them or shmooze them for the sake of politics; he doesn’t have to pretend he’s someone other than his most true self: a purveyor of music, it’s most devoted fan, an apprentice of song, a conduit for the sound. He closes his eyes and harmonises with Barty and Evan.

Stolen Moments: (Ch5: Extra Credit: Regulus x James | E | 3.6k)

He doesn’t even know how this started between them, couldn’t even outline the rules if someone asked. And someone has—multiple someones, in fact: Remus, Lily, Sirius. He never has anything adequate to say, directing their questions to Regulus, instead, though he doubts they’ve had any success there. Getting Regulus to discuss something he doesn’t volunteer freely is like trying to wring water from a rock: a waste of time. What James does know is that, despite their parting words each time—whether it be in a broom closet during a school-sanctioned, chaperoned dance, in the loo at the corner pub, or fuck, in James’s car before one of Harry’s matches on a Sunday morning—James isn’t sure this is something he can give up. It’s barbed words and tight grips, taunting smirks and bite marks. But it’s also unmatched ecstasy and endorphin highs, proprietary grips and hypnotising kisses. It’s a push and pull with Regulus that James has never known before and it’s addicting, the way he can get under Regulus’s skin so easily, the way Regulus’s scowl sends heat down James’s spine.

and that's a wrap, folks!

Hiii sar! oOooh okay here’s what i’ve got for this Ronan Lynch x Adam Parrish drabble (1,246 words):

Adam slid onto the worn leather hightop with an involuntary groan, his jaw tight. With unfounded hesitation, he rested his elbows on the shiny mahogany; the bartop looked like it should be sticky. It wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t, it never was.

The fading sun assaulted the tall window to his right, the fight fruitless; autumn, evening, and Virginia didn’t exactly make for a weak opponent. Amber lowlights glowed from strange, stained glass lamps suspended from the ceiling at varying heights throughout the space, casting a tinted myriad of shadows. It was probably meant to be whimsical; it just reminded Adam of a bruise.

Johnny was crooning from an old jukebox in the corner about his stint in Folsom Prison as Adam tap-tap-tapped his thumb on the resin coated wood, impatient and overworked, tired and underappreciated. The bartender knew he was here, Adam knew. He was just doing fuck all about it. 

Four minutes went by.

Adam rubbed his eyes agitatedly. This fucking guy, he thought. 

Adam turned, hoping his stare would burn a hole into the bartender’s back, prick his skin a bit to make him jump and turn and scurry over here with flames licking at his feet. The man remained unperturbed. 

He was tall, broad. A buzzed cut over a ‘fuck you’ face. Adam usually sped through their small talk, racing through the back again, Suit? and the looks like it and the whatta’ya want, the usual? with Adam nodding at his hands, the conversation a dead-end road. 

But when he’d move away, Adam couldn’t help but take the turns of his arms at a slow speed, dangerous curves ahead caught in his peripheral.  

Today, though, he didn’t bother to come over when he spotted Adam walk in, the heavy set door sealing him inside with an abrupt clap that was swallowed by the sound of a pool cue connecting with a solid or a stripe. 

Today, he was too busy chatting with the only other employee he’s ever seen in this place, a short young woman about their age who always had a collection of colorful barrettes and butterfly clips in her hair and some sort of patchwork clothing item on that he both wanted to look away from and couldn’t at the same time, a fender bender holding up unnecessary traffic. 

Sargent, the man usually called her, was sitting on the counter speaking unnecessarily close to his face. Sometimes he called her Maggot, too, Adam noticed, though he didn’t actually think that was her name. Hoped it wasn’t, at least. You never could tell with backwater towns like this—the oddities it contained, the transgressions that hid inside—that much, Adam knew. He wondered at their relationship, as he did every time he was here. He couldn’t get a clear enough read on them, and that unclarity, that misknowledge, that question mark, drove his lips south. As if his car hadn’t done enough of that already tonight.

They both noticed Adam, first her and then him; her gaze a mischievous taunt, his an unhurried dismissal. They were talking about him, in fact. He knew that much, based on their frequent looks, based on her not-so-hushed your suit is ready for pickup as Adam sat down, ice clinking against her glass as she gestured. 

Adam scoffed, looking away and debating why he was even here, in a bar stereotypically named ‘Hennessey’s’ with a customer service that lacked both a steady stream of customers and service to be desired.

There was no reason for him to drive nearly an hour outside of the city every Monday night, no logical one, anyway. He didn’t live here, he didn’t even know where ‘here’ was. 

Welcome to Henrietta, the male bartender—Lynch, Adam remembered, thanks to that lone answered phone call a few visits back—deadpanned the first time Adam confiscated this bar stool. 

How’d you know I’m not from— Adam started, before Lynch cut him off. 

You’ve got politics on your suit, man, take a napkin for Christ’s sake.

He tossed a small one-ply square with a block-lettered ‘H’ on it at Adam as he walked away, grabbing for glass bottles and an orange without asking Adam for his order that beginning night. Less than a minute later, Lynch slid an impressive looking Old Fashioned in front of him. 

To wash down the corruption and bullshit, he’d said, eyes lingering on Adam’s hand loosening his tie, then the hand spinning the glass in a contemplative circle, don’t choke on it. Lynch tapped the bartop twice with two fingers in quick succession and disappeared into the back. Adam sort of wanted to give his acerbic mouth something else to choke on but he cracked his neck instead and nursed the cocktail until he had no excuse to stay any longer. 

The following week he was back again, in that same seat, drinking that same drink.

Every Monday for seven weeks Adam drove out to this flat little town in the mountains and pulled into the gravel lot, hardly conscious of his body doing so. All Adam knew was that by the time he was walking through the parking garage at the end of day, the thought of entering his quiet, lifeless apartment to eat leftover takeout and fall asleep by ten p.m. just to bring about Tuesday all the sooner made him want to jump in front of—rather than step aside from—his boss’s douchey yellow Hummer that nearly mowed him down most evenings. 

Every Monday for seven weeks Adam felt Lynch’s attentive stare from the other end of the bar like a physical touch. He was judging him, no doubt. Adam was an outsider, a poser, the thread on the shoulder of his navy suit jacket loose and fraying with the miles he’s gotten out of it. 

Every Monday for seven weeks Adam’s resisted the urge to get up and walk out, never to return, or worse, let his palm fall flat with a smack and an attitude and say—

“I’m right here, okay? I’m right. here.” The top row of Adam’s teeth grated on the bottom as his jaw snapped shut, as exhaust fell from his nose in a huff. The two bartenders turned to face him, her eyebrows lost under a haphazard fringe, his smirk curled in an unaffected way that made Adam want to throttle him. “If you’re going to talk about me, you might as well say it to my face.”

Sargent’s lips dropped into a small ‘o’ against her straw, before grinning at Lynch with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, Ronan, why don’t you say it to his face?” She shoved his shoulder with force; he didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he stared at Adam with that unnerving, unreadable, frustratingly symmetrical face for an endless amount of time. Adam held his gaze; he called the shots, he was going to see them through. 

Lynch’s—Ronan’s—eyes dropped. Goosebumps broke out on Adam’s arms. Ronan licked his lips. Adam swallowed. Ronan pushed off from the bar, standing at full height and carrying his towering, menacing frame over until he stopped in front of Adam. 

He leaned down, sculpted forearms resting on the shiny wooden surface, his face closer than ever before. Ronan’s blue eyes were as cold as the melted ice in Sargent’s mystery purple drink as he said, “Well, Suit—”

“Parrish. Adam Parrish,” he corrected.

• NEW FIC • THE RAVEN CYCLE • RONAN LYNCH x ADAM PARRISH • 11.2k WORDS • RATED E •

wrote a lil somethin’ somethin’ for @microdamage and their thirteen year obsession with TRC/pynch, oh and this, like, stupid hard, impressive thing they did this week !!

if you like TRC, give this one a try, and if you haven’t read The Raven Cycle yet then whattttttre you waiting for !!! this is your sign to read it !!

Click :: here

Day 7: assignment [read it here on AO3]

James lets out a choking sound. “C-couple?”

“Since when?!” Sirius asks, storm cloud grey eyes flicking back and forth between them.

“We made it official the other night, up on the Astronomy Tower,” Regulus offers, staring at Remus with a small, lovesick smile. He’s hamming it up, the wanker. James wipes a hand down his face and looks around, as if for an escape. “We just figured, why keep dancing around each other?”

Remus hums in agreement, rubbing Regulus’s knuckles tenderly. “Exactly. When you know, you know, right?”

Sirius’s mouth hangs open, his head shaking from side to side with subtle movements. James clenches his jaw as he stares at his shoes, his rough, calloused Chaser’s hands balled into fists at his side.

“Right, darling. It’s almost curfew though, so I’m off. See you at breakfast?” Regulus steps closer to Remus, standing between his parted thighs, a hand on his cheek.

“Of course, love,” Remus answers, ignoring Sirius’s near-silent gasp.

can i haaaave 87 + pynch for the drabble game, perhaps?

KAYYY hihiiiiii <3 YES YOU CAN!

In fact, I got so excited to finally have an excuse to write out this idea I've had, that I (again) got carried away. To read the full "drabble" - fic? oneshot? smutshot? - click here :)

For now, here's an excerpt:

“Just shut up, Lynch,” Adam huffed, and before Ronan knew it, Adam Parrish was naked in his car.

Well, half naked. 

Still, it was enough to nearly run the car off the road.

“Shit.” Ronan straightened the wheel and ignored whatever the fuck expression was on Adam’s face.

When Adam turned back to stuff the dirty tank in his bag, Ronan gave in to the invisible hands tugging at his chin. 

He shouldn’t have looked. 

Acres of bare, tan skin were waiting for him, stretched tight across the faint ridges of Adam’s ribs, creating shadows in the dips of his muscled torso, shifting with the tectonic plates in his back. When Adam sat back and stretched, Ronan glimpsed the light trail of dusty hair that disappeared into the waistband of his boxers. He was a landscape more beautiful than the Barns, and Ronan wanted to map him with his teeth.

got a new wolfstar oneshot for ya! this one was created to celebrate the beloved ao3 sex pollen tag, because I think we can all agree it deserves more content and appreciation!

Summary: Sirius Black loves to take the piss out of Remus Lupin for having a persistent admirer that just can't seem to take a hint. But when her desire to be with Remus goes too far, Sirius has to decide just how far he's willing to go to save his best mate.

14.4k | Rated E | Wolfstar (Sirius x Remus)

Pull up this fic if you’d like to read:

✿ Sirius POV

✿ a Sex Pollen, High Stakes Scenario

✿ Crack Treated Seriously

✿ Explicit Sexual Content

✿ Curse Breaker Sirius Black

✿ Werewolf, Bookshop Owner Remus Lupin

✿ Friends to Lovers

✿ Alternate Universe - Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies

Read it here friends :)