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visd3stele · 3 years ago

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The beauty and his beast - wolfstar fic

summary: two different nights, years passed, some things changes, but some never do

TW: nightmares, PTSD, trauma, non depictive child abuse, themes of suicidal thoughts

A/N: I loved writing this, but I am so nervous about it. What do you think?

requests ; masterlist

fanart credit picture down below: @lunopal

Ragged voices licked his ears. Three different ones overlapped in a cacophony of hissed whispers and dooming laughs. From where he stood in the middle of his cell, Sirius could see a silhouette standing in the open door. Open, because there was no way he could escape. Three Dementors floated in a circle around him, so fast he could barely tell them apart. Black smoke, a burning smell and shadows whirled under low hoods, bringing him to his knees.

The man in the door curled his lips in a terrible grin. The Dementors were his and with each mind they broke, with each soul they ate, the wizard gained a sense of pride and morbid joy.

Sirius knew it. He knew the man, back in his school years - how far they seemed now! But Sirius also knew he was delusional. The Dementors bow to no one. They have no law, no caretaker, no master. Only their purpose.

Continuing to swirl around his frail body, sinked in to a third of what it used to be, bony edges poking out through dirty thin layers of clothing, the Dementors closed in on Sirius. Flashes of memories flew before the Animagus' eyes. James' empty ones, still open in a silent plea for his sacrifice to be enough to save his family, his brown hair dipped in his own blood, body angled in an unnatural position with his hand stretched forward above his head as if reaching for his best friend. Lily's tears, yet to dry and evaporates, stained her too pale face, the red of her hair sprayed around too lively; no blood pools formed around her lifeless body, laid on its belly as it fell onward, as if leaping away from her son, so the baby won't have to see it. And finally Harry, his godson, crying in his crib, a brown-red crust shaped like a lightning forming on his forehead; his green, small eyes, swollen, puffy and trimmed with red followed his godfather as the man turned his back on him and ran outside.

Sirius cursed loudly, beginning to shackle the chains trapping him in place in case he tried to escape the daily visit of the Prison Warrant and his guards. But the now twenty five years old has stopped trying to run a long time ago. What good would it be? There was nothing - no one - waiting from him out in the world. No, Sirius trashing around the cold, dirty dais, snapping the metal biting in his wrists, bruising his effervescent skin and almost cracking his bones as well was his attempt to run from his own mind. If he could just wipe the haunting memories away with a shook of his head, a twist of his back or punching and kicking the thick walls.

Fragments of thoughts he wasn't sure belonged to him invaded his mind. "Your fault. Traitor. Another Black." And, worst of all, one pained howl, a desperate scream in the night. Sirius wasn't sure if he heard it, or the dark creatures around toyed with him, but Remus' wild, feral yell of pure hurt reverberated inside the bars of his mind. The young wizard shut his eyes closed tightly, hoping to brush away the sound, the voices. Failing to do so, he released a scream of his own, only a hint of Padfoot, the big, black dog, his alter ego, printed in it.

The thirty four years old man yanked up. The bed sheets were soaked in his sweat, the blanket throwed on the floor. Sirius passed a shacking hand over his face, feeling the hot air leaving his mouth in short breaths, than big inhales with no exhale, the burning of tears on his warm red cheeks and the running nose. His lips felt sewed together all of a sudden, as chill after chill entered his body, cooling off his face too quickly.

It was just a nightmare, he knew. He escaped Azkaban, has been a free man from over a week already. But Sirius Black couldn't let the twelve years in prison go. The things he saw there, what the Dementors showed him day after day, carved their way in his brain, refusing to leave. Yes, he may have been wrong: his family and living friend welcomed him back. Harry was warming up to hid godfather, Nymphadora Tonks was eager to know her uncle, Andromeda even reached out, sending letter after letter and Remus - well, Remus hugged him tight and apologized for believing that filthy rat's lies. The werewolf spent his days, from first ray of sunshine until the last drop of sunlight. But the nights he went home. The nights when ghosts came to play, wounds teared open and pain leaked like blood from Sirius' heart, Remus was gone.

He tried to remember a time they didn't share a bed - before Azkaban, of course. Not in a sexual way, though it came to that in the late years of Hogwarts too. But simply for the comfort they each found in the other. It started in the second year, Sirius recalled.

Four twelve years old boys in a room seemed like a receipt for disaster. In a way, it was. After finding out their friend's secret, James, Sirius and Peter decided to sneak in the herbology cabinet, get Mandrake leaves and become Animagus. Seeing as they got away with it, the four created their enchanted map and become the Marauders, messers Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail, waltzing their merry way through Hogwarts.

Not everything was merry and joyful, though. And despite their reputation, the wizards could be grave and serious when need be. Like one night, when Sirius woke them all up with his cries. The grey eyed boy stood on top of his bed covers, knees drawn to his chest, hands tangled in his shoulder length hair. He leaned back and forth, trembling. Front teeth bit in his lower lip to prevent him from making more noises as silent tears rolled down his face.

The other three boys thought Sirius saw a mean spirit, the haunted glassy look in his eyes only proving their theory further. But no danger threatened in the shadows of their room. No monster lurked in the darkness.

James was the first to get up and surf his way to the pure blood. Remus followed closely behind while Peter watched everything from the safety of his bed. Sirius' episode truly spooked him.

"Padfoot, mate, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. 'm sorry. Go back to sleep."

James and Remus changed worried looks at the sourness of Sirius' voice. Their friend would usually be the epitome of confidence, yet now he seemed to desperately try to shrink and disappear. But it was late and they were tired, so the boys decided with a swift nod that they'd pick up the subject in the morning and climbed back under their covers.

Remus jolted awake. Two out of his three best friends were sound asleep. Sirius still stared at the wall in front of him, breathing jerky. Due to his fine, superior hearing, the werewolf discerned the Black boy's muffled whimpers, sounds that kept him from sleeping.

"Sirius, why are you so afraid?" Remus whispered.

" 'm not afraid, Moony. Sleep."

"Can't. Werewolf remember? I hear you trying to not cry. You can cry, you know."

"I know." Sirius said in a tone that clearly showed he doesn't. With a sigh, Remus threw away his blanket, slipped his feet in his shoes and trailed his legs over the dorm's brick daises until he reached his friend's bed. The brown haired boy signed Sirius to scoop over, which he did, to both wizards surprise.

Later, when talking about that night, Padfoot admitted he was too tired, too shocked and too lost in his mind to think and only acted on auto pilot.

Remus brought the blankets to cover them both, still seated as they were. "Do you need a hug?" Sirius hesitated before answering, but eventually he nodded twice, a quick movement as if the boy was ashamed to admit it and wanted to pass unnoticed.

But Remus smiled softly and wrapped his hands around him. Sirius clinged onto his friend. The warmth of the gesture, the cozy closeness of a settled, stable body, a person that cared deeply about him and only him as a being, set the restrained tears free. Remus held Sirius until his body stilled and he could feel no more tears soaking his pajamas.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sirius swallowed, but the words demanded to be spoken. "Yes."

"Alright. I'm gonna ask you questions and you can answer with yes or no. It's your choice if you want to elaborate. Sounds good?"

"Yes." Sirius said and for a moment his usual, ironic self showed up.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"Yes."

"About your family?"

With a shudder, the grey eyed boy forced out another "yes."

"Your brother?"

"No."

"Your parents, then. Did they - did they do something to you?"

"Yes." Remus' arms tighten around him and he clunged harder to his friend as well. In the safety of the Gryffindor dorm, shared with his most trusted peers, comforted by the scarred boy he became an Animagus for, Sirius stumbled over his thoughts. The dream weighted heavy on his mind, but he didn't know how to let free of those horrible images that haunted him. Not images, memories. Sirius feared that if he said anything they'll become real. Not that they weren't, but they happened in the past. Talking about them, invoking them, would feel like living through them again.

And yet, part of him wanted to talk. He needed someone to know. Sirius couldn't be sure why. Maybe to hear that it was nothing, that it was ok and he shouldn't be such a weak ship. Or maybe to hear it was normal and he wasn't alone. That is how parents love and his didn't hate him after all. Or just to show someone how broken he were, hoping to be picked un and patched.

So, speaking slowly, but evenly, Sirius retailed his nightmare to Remus. In his sleep, the twelve years old boy was hanging some muggle posters in his room: bands, promo for concerts, normal things a boy his age would own. He smiled broadly, music turned on quite loud, muggle music, when his parents bursts in. Walburga and Orion both yell, but Sirius can’t understand what they’re saying. It’s pretty clear they are very upset with him, though. And the reason couldn’t be more obvious.

“Sirius Orion Black!” his mother shrieked. “Ungrateful, worthless child! You are a stain on the family’s name.”

“You should be ashamed of you. As much as I am for being your father. Well, say something. Look how upset you made your mother!”

“Sorry,” he’d try to say, but his voice would break, too small to be heard by the angry adults. Which only worsened their state. Sirius watched frozen in terror as Walburga took her wand. Only his head seemed to be able to move, and he was shacking it vigorously, wiping his cheeks with it. The young wizard tasted tears on his tongue as he repeated the same words over and over again “no, please, ‘m sorry!” It did nothing to help.

Remus stayed in his bed that night.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The moon shone mockingly on the window. Last night has been a full moon and Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail failed to properly contain Moony. It happened quite a lot in their first days as Animagus. As normal, they got better over the years, the four boys falling in rhythm like an oiled machine. By the time they reached excellency, though, mistakes happened. James, Peter and Sirius thought less of it, but Remus took it badly.

As he laid in the dark, blanket drawn to cover his head as he hugged his knees on the side, the young werewolf tried to remember what happened last night. What if he killed someone? What if he will next time the boys won’t be able to restrain him? Is it worth living like this, a danger to himself and the ones around? What if he hurts his friends?

“I can hear your mind working from over here y’know?”

Remus straighten up in shock. “Padfoot?”

“Well, it’s not the Fat Lady. What’s on your mind?”

Remus shrugged, but Sirius wouldn’t stop pestering him until he poured his deepest fears and doubts.

“You won’t”

“How do you know this?”

“You won’t, Moony,” Sirius said more firmly this time.

“Alright.” Remus clearly didn’t believe him and his worries still troubled him as he turned to lay back down. He heard footsteps, then felt the mattress shifting as another body climbed over his bed covers. “I know because I am Sirius Black and you are my friend.” Less than an hour later, both boys were sound asleep.

Sirius slept in his bed that night.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

It became a tradition. At first, they'd wait until one of them woke frozen in pain and panic, then they'd stay together and talk silently until they could sleep again. Later, Sirius and Remus would wait until James and Peter were out to decide who's bed to sleep in, knowing one of them - or both - ought to need the comfort.

The man kept trembling. His sobs caught in hiccups, leaving him out of breath. He did it. He left Harry for revenge. He practically made the choice for James and Lily, selecting Peter as secret keeper. His brother died and instead of mourning him, Sirius rejoiced bitterly in his cell - until he found out how he betrayed the Dark Lord.

He was just another Black. An evil presence in the world, despite his efforts. Gryffindor or Slytherin, it mattered not when his genes crafted him. Sirius tried so hard to be good, brave, loyal and the only thing he managed was to disappoint everyone. He was a nuisance and a burden and the a stain on the world. It'd be better if his sorry, useless existence would be wiped off the surface of the Earth.

Such thoughts clouded Sirius' mind when a light knock pulled him out of his head. "May I come in, Padfoot?"

The man almost broke at the nickname. Only one single person now would know to call him that. The weight of the realization hit him and another wave of tears carried the air from his lungs.

Receiving no answer, Remus kicked the door open, worry written all over him. The werewolf was panting and sweating from running, eyes wide close to terror. "Padfoot!" Seeing his oldest friend's state, he rushed to his side and hesitated only a moment before drawing him in for a hug.

"Nightmare?"

"Yes."

"Azkaban?"

"Yes."

"Dementors?"

"Yes. They-" Sirius gulped, shame tightening up in his throat. He was a thirty four man, for Godric's sake! And yet he cries like a baby. But the path he and Remus trailed off to, simple questions, any type of answer, so familiar and soothing he couldn't stop. "They tortured me. Showing me their - James and Lily's - death over and over. I left Harry, Moony. I stepped inside the house, saw that beautiful, brave child, suffering and I took off after bloody Pettigrew!" Before Remus could say a thing, Sirius continued, teeth so barred that words barely spitted out. "I heard you screaming too. I don't think that was real, but it sounded so broken, Moony. Twelve years, over twenty four full moons alone. 'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

Remus inhaled sharply, pulling Sirius even closer to him. He rubbed circles on his back, leaning to whisper in his ear "It was not, Padfoot. I should have trusted you more, star. If anything, it's my fault for spending so much time alone. So much, in fact, that it seems I neglected you, our agreement."

“It was my fault.” Sirius insisted.

“No,” and not letting him time to argue, Remus added “I know so, Sirius, because I am Remus Lupin and you are my... friend.”

Sirius pulled away only to find a reluctant smile playing on Remus' face. His body reacted before his mind could process its moving. He moved on the right side of the bed, still avoiding the other wizard's eyes. "Why are you here, Remus?"

"I couldn't sleep either. Thought to check on you as well. And good thing I did. You looked..." The professor didn't know how to finish that sentenced. Hollow. Empty. Dead. Scaringly close to death, in fact.

"Merlin! Thank you, Moony. You don't look bad yourself."

Remus chuckled. "Are you feeling any better?"

"No. You?"

"No."

Both men laughed. A bitter sweet sound passing through silence, taking with it any sign of discomfort that existed.

"I'm glad you came."

"Me too."

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snowbellewells · 5 years ago

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Self-Promo Sunday: “We Gather Together {Glad for the Blessings}”

For this week’s Self-Promo Sunday, I went back to a Thanksgiving-themed one shot I wrote a few years back. Other than Robin being alive, and Belle not being reconciled with Rumple though, I don’t think there is any reason this couldn’t fit into the timeline somewhere after the CS wedding. There aren't a lot of Thanksgiving fics in this fandom, despite all the Halloween and Christmas ones, and so I thought I would try to do my part with this little one shot – especially seeing as it's a holiday I truly love, and I would adore being able to watch the whole Charming-Swan-Jones-Mills family get to relax, break bread together, and just enjoy a "quiet moment" or two.

At one point, this had a fic cover art I had made, but it seems to not be anywhere in my drive. I hated to lose it, but just a gif for this one’s art at the moment, I’m afraid. ;p Still, here’s hoping you all enjoy this little re-run! I don't own them at all (never will) but I'd love to hear what you think…

"We Gather Together (Glad for the Blessings)"

By: @snowbellewells On AO3 On FF.net

Barreling into the kitchen calling out "Henry?! Killian?!", Emma Swan was already well into panic mode due to the charred, burning smell that had reached her nostrils as soon as she'd mounted the steps to the front porch and the plumes of grey smoke wafting into her vision in the entryway once she opened the door. She was skidding to a stop at the kitchen table before she realized that though the fire alarm had been bleating raucously, there were no sounds of panic or yells of dismay. Instead, though both of her True Loves were now frozen, looking to her guiltily as if caught with their hands painted red - Killian bent over the open stove and Henry with his arm outstretched, fanning the air with a hot pad - they appeared to have been happy as clams until she had run in so distraught.

Clearly they weren't in any immediate danger, and Emma's posture relaxed upon seeing the house wasn't burning down and neither her son nor her pirate was blackened to a crisp. Shaking her head at them both, she genuinely tried to look stern instead of both relieved and ready to burst out laughing. Crossing her arms, she mused aloud, "Do I even want to know what the two of you are doing?"

Sighing in defeat, Killian stood to his full height, letting the oven door bang closed and not quite meeting her reproving gaze as he raked a hand through his hair, darted a quick glance at Henry, then finally answered her question. "We were trying to help you, Swan. It seemed prudent to get started with the main course before hosting your entire family tomorrow, and the lad felt sure he could offer guidance on the proceedings."

Henry flushed as Killian gestured toward him, and shrugged sheepishly, looking up at her with big brown eyes that though in an older face, still proved as irresistible to her as when he'd showed up on her doorstep as a ten-year-old. "I may have overestimated how closely I was watching my other mom the last time she did this."

Emma couldn't help it; her metabolism did tick up a few notches and her eyes widened in shocked dismay. "Oh no, don't tell me… Do you mean to say you guys ruined that 19 pound Butterball I had all ready in the freezer?"

Killian winced a bit at her reaction. "Come now, Lass, it isn't as if we did it on purpose. You were just saying last night how you wanted everything to be perfect, you've never been able to celebrate a real family Thanksgiving with all the trimmings before, and everything should be just right. We only wished to help you along."

Emma gave an exaggerated nod as she responded, "Ah, I see," before a knowing light slipped into her eyes while studying one and then the other to see who would crack first. "Just selfless action from the good of your hearts, was it?"

Henry nodded, pulling off a ridiculously innocent look, but Killian couldn't quite meet her gaze, peeking up at her from beneath the fringe of his dark hair and eyelashes like a poor, repentant rascal. "Well, Swan, if the truth be told, we might have become a bit distracted…"

"I thought so," she affirmed with one last quick, triumphant dip of the head.

"Yes, well," Killian hemmed and hawed adorably, and Emma was almost afraid she might bite through her lip trying not to laugh out loud, the whole kitchen mishap long forgiven, but watching him stutter in embarrassment like he often caused her to do was too priceless to end just yet. "Love, your boy's moving picture box sucks a man in with its programs. Are you sure it doesn't possess some sort of hypnotic magic of its own? Perhaps we should not let Henry…"

"Okay, okay, hold up," Henry broke in anxiously, not about to see his mom's boyfriend relegate him back to the Stone Age with concern over modern technology and not speak up his own defense.

Emma couldn't hold back her dissolution into helpless giggles any longer, and Killian stopped short with an affronted look at the noisy interruption from both of them at once. After a few moments, Emma reined her laughter back in, assured Henry he wouldn't be losing all television privileges, and turned with the both of them to survey the wreck that had been her nice, clean kitchen when she'd left that morning, hands on hips. "Well boys, let's see what we can salvage," she said at last.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

In the end, the turkey is magicked to golden brown perfection for the holiday meal. Emma had hoped to succeed at doing it the old fashioned way, but after seeing the damage Killian and Henry had wrought with their attempt – and though she only admitted it to herself, knowing either one of them was better in the kitchen than she was, when not unfortunately sidetracked – she decided there was no sense in further risking the main course she intended to serve to company.

She, Killian, and Henry did spend a warm, domestic, evening making the accompanying side dishes in the kitchen together. After placing a tray of butterhorn rolls in the oven to cook, Emma turned to see Henry flip a spoonful of cranberry sauce at Killian, hitting him square on the nose and making him jerk back in surprise at the splat of impact.

"Hey now," her pirate warned, glowering as he raised a spoonful of stuffing for a counterattack.

Emma thought idly that she should be warning them not to waste food, not to destroy their kitchen for a second time in one day, and basically chide them both to behave themselves, but instead she could merely watch as author and pirate mounted a giddy food fight she eventually joined, hugging herself tightly so she didn't simply burst with the joy swelling up inside her, so full of gratitude for both of them, for a home and family at last, and for this moment in which to enjoy it all. Thanksgiving, indeed.

That night when Henry had settled into his own room and the house had grown quiet, Emma stopped Killian as he left the bathroom after brushing his teeth, biting her lip at the all-too-inviting sight of him in dark blue lounge pants with little white anchors printed on them that he wore for sleep and all that dark hair on his toned and scarred chest. He looked upon her with a curious quirk to his brow, but didn't question her, only wrapped his arms around her waist and brought his forehead to rest against her own.

Enveloped in his warmth, Emma grew almost dizzy at the minty fresh breath he exhaled against her neck and nearly lost her train of thought altogether, but she pulled out the item she had intended to show him. It was the wishbone from their turkey, and she held it out for him to see. "Do you know what this is?"

"Aye," Killian answered, though she could tell by his expression he had no clue why she would draw his attention to it. "It's some part of that fowl we prepared for tomorrow's feast, but why…"

He trailed off when she twined the fingers of her free hand with his and brought his hand up to grip the opposite end of the wishbone from the one she held. "They're for wishing on," she explained briefly, playful mirth in her eyes. "People pull them apart and whoever gets the larger piece makes a wish that is then supposed to come true."

"Alright Lass, if you say so," he agreed gamely, a bit of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth now as well.

Holding her breath, Emma thought of all the times she had wanted to do this as a kid and had never been the one who got the wishbone. Or all the times as an adult that she'd had it, but no one in her empty apartment to hold the other end, or to appreciate the wish she'd made nor share in her joy if it did come to fruition. As the fragile bone snapped and they looked down to the pieces in their hands, Emma and Killian found it had broken almost evenly, and so she whispered, not wanting to break the calm stillness in the room, "Let's say we both wish…together."

Killian merely nodded and closed his eyes as she did. When she opened them again, it was to meet his blue, blue gaze shining back at her. She had the feeling they'd wished for the exact same thing…many more years of holidays like this.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The blessed feeling carried over to the family dinner the next day. Sitting at the head of the long table in the dining room of a home of her very own – hers, Henry's and Killian's – the first time she'd ever had such a thing, Emma felt as though the whole scene was bathed in some sort of golden light, like she was living inside a perfect Norman Rockwell painting. The table surface was packed, crammed, overloaded with food – from the golden brown, crisp-skinned, turkey and their perfectly toasted, flaky butterhorns to Regina's apple dumplings, green beans, noodles, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. The ten-year-old foster child inside her nearly drools at the bounty, never quite able to banish the breakfasts, lunches, and dinners missed, the times she had sat alone in some cafeteria, eyes fixed on the food other students carelessly tossed in the bins which she would have loved to have while she had been packed nothing to eat and had no money to buy even a drink, of the times she had gone to bed in a rickety bunk, stomach growling and unable to stop fixating on those cabinets full of snacks that were off limits. Seeing Henry to her right, ruffling his hair affectionately for just a second before he turned to grin at her proudly, clearly pleased their time in the kitchen had given them this much to show for it, she could only rejoice that he had never known such days, and the neither she nor Killian ever would again.

She gave her father a nod of confirmation where he sat at the other end of the table, leading him to grin widely, the warm look of love and happiness on his face making her feel even more that this moment right here really was all she had been missing – all she had ever wanted – all those years she spent alone. As David stood to carve the turkey and Snow alternated between beaming up at her husband proudly and passing the plates now loaded up with juicy slices of turkey down the table, Emma squeezed Killian's hand with her left, and he cut a knowing glance at her, showing clearly that he understood and felt it too.

Beside Henry sat Belle, then Snow, and across from Henry were Regina, Robin, and Roland. It would seem that their family continued to grow and warmly open to welcome into its circle anyone with nowhere else to belong on this day meant to be spent with loved ones. As she had wished for that very thing each holiday season for 28 years, Emma could think of no better nor more heroic thing for her family to do.

Once everyone had been served – both turkey and all the other dishes filling the long table – Killian stood with raised glass, even as Emma tapped her spoon against her own to garner everyone's attention for him. "A toast, mates, if I may," Killian announced jovially in that rich, enticing voice. Emma shivered slightly at the way its tones thrilled through her, though trying to give no outward sign; she would gladly listen to him read the ingredients of the box for the stuffing, but she knew everyone else was hungry and ready to dig in, so her heart swelled just that much more when the others around their table dutifully paused and turned to listen to him with genuine interest and agreement.

"I daresay I shan't keep us from this delectable feast for long," her pirate intoned, "but I have more to be grateful for this year than I have ever possessed in my ridiculously long life, and my thanks must be offered…"

He paused, meeting the eyes of each of those gathered around the table briefly, and then continued with a fervent tone which came out sounding a bit choked with emotion. "When I first arrived in this realm, still lost in my bitterness, anger, and thirst for revenge, I could not have imagined a day like this, full of peace, love, and gratitude. Emma, Love, when you offered me the chance to join you and be a part of something, and we undertook that desperate quest to Neverland, the idea that we could come to belong to each other as we do now, that you would hold my heart in your very palm, or that I would find myself with a true family again, seemed inconceivable. Yet, I am so glad you gave me that last chance, like a line thrown in the drink to a drowning man. It saved my life, turned me back around to the man I once meant to be. My thankfulness to be here with all of you today cannot be adequately expressed." He swallowed hard, dipped his head, and then took his seat again. "You have all blessed us with your presence at our table."

"Cheers!" everyone else agreed, raising their glasses to clink with each other around the table, several other eyes misty and voices husky with feeling besides their captain's. Emma blinked quite a bit herself, glancing around at their motley crew.

Her fingers reached across to trail lightly over Killian's shoulder, stroking his back soothingly for a few moments and then rising to delve playfully into the dark hair at the nape of his neck. Brushing gently through the soft strands, Emma smiled affectionately as his head inclined slightly toward her, thinking humorously that if he were a cat, her sailor would be nearly purring in contentment right now. This moment deserved to be captured – preserved – in her mind forever; she couldn't feel any more stuffed with grateful satisfaction.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

It was nearly midnight when the last of their guests had been seen to the door and out into the chilly dark of Storybrooke's nighttime streets. Henry had gone with Regina; they had a tradition of shopping, then decorating the mayor's mansion for Christmas, and capping the evening off with homemade apple turnovers running over with icing. Emma marveled at Henry's blithely forgiving ability to still eat the things with relish after nearly dying from one bit of that very poisoned pastry also made by Regina long ago. Still, she couldn't deny she was glad to have her pirate to herself this night – a true quiet moment for the two of them.

They were curled around each other on the couch in the living room, watching flames crackle merrily in the fireplace, feet up on the coffee table, each of them enjoying a sweet taste of leftover pumpkin pie.

"Open up, Darling," Killian urged, fork upraised to her lips with a piece of sticky filling and flaky crust adorned with the sweet white topping she loved. Emma really didn't need him to feed her, but she playfully went along with his gesture and hummed in pleasure when the flavors exploded on her tongue.

"Mhmm, really good," she mumbled, her mouth still full, but nodding her head and moving to get a piece on her own fork and return the favor for him.

Killian's deep, reverberating chuckle stopped her though, and he leaned forward just enough to wrap his lips around the tip of her nose, licking off the bit of whipped cream he'd gotten on her moments before. It was a mostly innocent gesture, but his proximity, the warmth of the near kiss, and the fact that they were truly – finally – alone, relaxed, and had nowhere else to be had her heart hammering triple time as she sat up quickly, unfolded her legs and pulled him up with her.

"Come on, Pirate," she spoke a little breathlessly, a devilish gleam in her eyes, "we can finish this later."

It didn't take him long to catch on and follow her eagerly, still chuckling with his hand in hers, as she picked up the can of whipped cream from the coffee table where she'd placed it earlier and led him upstairs to their room.

Tagging a few lovelies who might enjoy: @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @searchingwardrobes @let-it-raines @therooksshiningknight @laschatzi @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @jennjenn615 @lfh1962-lfh1226-linda @stahlop @jrob64 @elizabeethan @wefoundloveunderthelight @donteattheappleshook @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @xsajx @shireness-says @apiratewhopines

#cs oneshot #cs family fluff #captain cobra fluff #Thanksgiving fic #self promo sunday #ouat missing moment #slight canon divergence

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fandom-collective-writers · 5 years ago

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Reader x Vanderwood - Good to be Home

Title: Good to be Home

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Character: Vanderwood

Genre: ;)

Warnings: it smecci

Kinks: PHONE SEX, dirty talk, masturbation, vibrator, edging, dont worry theres actual sex in here, standing sex, daddy/babygirl (name calling)

Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 2000 words

Requested by: Anon!

Quote: Smut quote “You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.”

Shameless self-promo: check out my blog here!

Other comments: DAMN i been thirsting for some vanderwood smut lately ngl and i was really happy when i saw this request~ 11/10 for this motivation image – I did have to edit the prompt a bit to make it fit! also, posting it a few hours early because i have to sleep early! hope you enjoy~

You are about to wash some dishes when an unknown number calls your cell. This is not something uncommon. Seeing as Vanderwood was on missions all the time, he was not allowed to have a personal cell number. Instead, he called you from any phone available – hence the unknown numbers.

After quickly taking the gloves off, you answer the call. “Vanderwood?”

There is a moment of silence that makes you question if it’s actually him, but then you hear the token grunt he makes before he sits down. “Hey.” His voice is low and raspy, and you’ve almost forgotten the roughness of it because he has been away for so long. “What are you doing?”

You pad over to the couch and sling your legs over the arm. “Nothing real–”

“Good. Can you do something for me?”

It is less of a question and more of a command – you immediately sit up, thinking that something is wrong. “Are you okay?”

When the line goes quiet, your heart starts to thunder.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I have some time to myself and wanted to talk to you.”

Exhaling slowly, you relax and rake your fingers through your hair.

Vanderwood laughs on the other side and you hear brief shuffling. “Did you get worried?”

“Well– yes! I don’t know what could happen to you while you’re out there. I just… get anxious when you do that silence thing.”

“Silence thing?”

Curling some hair around your finger, you bite your lip. “Well… sometimes you go quiet before you respond to things, and I just jump to the worst conclusions.” It feels good to get this off of your chest – you feel relieved now that you have shared it with him.

“You don’t have to worry about me. Alright?”

“Okay… What was that thing you wanted me to do?”

You can almost hear the smirk stretching across his lips. “It’s in the bedroom. I left a surprise for you before I left. Go check it out.”

Now excited, you jump off the couch and make your way to your room. “Where is it?”

“Nightstand on my side. Top drawer. Has a big red bow on it. You really can’t miss it.”

Keeping the phone under your ear, you sit on the bed and open the drawer as instructed… but you are not expecting to find a hot pink vibrator with a red ribbon bow tied around the top. You pick it up, half gasping as you touch it, and then turn over the card to read the message on it. So you don’t get lonely. -V

“Do you like it?”

You struggle to find your words, but then manage a weak yes.

“Why don’t you try it out?” He is trying to reign in his laughter. “But stay on the phone.”

At his comment, you completely flush. “You mean like… phone sex?”

“Yeah. You want to try it?”

Now, your heart is racing for a completely different reason. It is hard to say you are not tempted to agree, but also, you have never tried anything like this before. Still though, you lean back against his pillow and clutch the vibrator with one hand. “Are you going to tell me what to do?”

Vanderwood swallows hard. “Are you going to listen, baby girl?”

“Yes, daddy~”

It was too easy to not reply with the name, and you know that Vanderwood likes it. “Hhh… take your underwear off. They’re going to be soaked otherwise–”

As fast as you can, you kick off your shorts and panties, leaving you only in your shirt and bra. As you spread your legs apart, you take the ribbon off and toss it into the corner of the room. “Okay. Now…?”

“Turn it to the lowest setting and rub it against your inner thighs. Don’t think about touching your pussy just yet,” he demands, his voice on edge.

You wonder if he’s getting off while listening to you, and just thinking about it makes your stomach flip. “Why not?”

“Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean I can’t edge you.” More shuffling comes through the line, but then his voice cuts through the white noise. “Be a good girl and listen to me. I’ll help you feel good.”

His voice drips with temptation and is completely irresistible. You want to hear him say everything, and you will gladly do it as well. So you press the round button, turning the toy on. It vibrates in your hand, and before Vanderwood can remind you what to do, you rub the head over the inside of your thighs. It’s so close to your clit, that you are tempted to disobey Vanderwood, but you decide against it. As the rubber touches your skin, it sends electric pulses to your core.

A moan slips from your lips, but you cover your mouth and hope that Vanderwood does not hear it. He does though, and snickers in response to it. “Aroused already? When was the last time you touched yourself?”

Swallowing the urge to shove the vibrator into your folds, you whimper softly. “It’s been.. a while.”

“A while?”

“Since you left.”

You hear Vanderwood stand up. “You haven’t fucked yourself in a month?”

“Vanderwood! Don’t say it like that.”

“Turn the vibrator off.”

“But–”

“Turn. It. Off.”

Whining you push the button and turn the toy off. You let it fall from your hand and you slump down into the bed. “Well now you’re going to make me wait more?”

“You’re going to regret telling me that, baby girl. Turn it back on to the third setting and put it directly on your clit. But don’t grind against it, just let the vibrator do its job.”

This sounds like torture, but you do it anyways and press the head between your folds. The second it touches your bud, you throw your head back and moan. This setting is much stronger than the first one, and you immediately feel your muscles tense. “V-Vanderwood, please–”

“Nuh-uh. Drag it across your cunt. Slowly.”

“D-Daddy…”

Vanderwood grunts. “Do it.”

You relent and do as you are told. The toy slides against you, and you realize that you are already more wet than you expected. It feels amazing, especially since you have not indulged in something like this in a while. Still, you wish that Vanderwood were there to do it himself. You miss his warmth and the way he drags his calloused fingers over your skin.

“I can’t hear you moaning. Louder.”

So you set the phone down and put it on speaker phone. Even though he never gave you specific permission, you grind the head against yourself, making your clit pulsate. “I–I’m going to cum–”

Vanderwood exhales sharply. “Keep going.”

You put a leg up and turn on your side slightly. Muffling your moans with the pillow, you whine, praying that you’ll reach your release soon. Vanderwood licks his lips and groans. “Turn the vibrator off.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. Turn it off.”

“But–”

“Babygirl…”

You’re about to cum, but you know that you’ll moan the second you do, so you turn the toy off and drop it. Your legs are shaking and your high escapes quickly. “Why did you–”

But before you can finish your question, Vanderwood pushes the door to your bedroom and walks in. He’s holding the phone in one hand and the other is hanging loosely off of the waistband of his pants. While keeping his gaze locked with yours, Vanderwood smirks. “Hey baby girl. Miss me?”

His voice echoes through your phone, and he hangs up before closing the distance between you and him. Vanderwood grips your wrists and pulls you up from the bed. “V-Vanderwood! You didn’t tell me you were coming home!”

He smirks and catches your lips in a deep kiss. “I had to get you warmed up. It’s been too long since we did this…” Vanderwood pushes you against the frame of your canopy bed and takes a moment to remove his shirt. The hidden holsters are still strapped to his muscular arms and toned chest. He does not bother to take them off, and you aren’t really complaining because they rather turn you on.

You move to help him with his belt, but Vanderwood grips your hands once more and keeps you pinned down. He pushes his pants and boxer briefs down just enough so that his cock is exposed – it is erect and dripping with precum.

He’s been here all along, you realize. He wanted to tease me and get me ready for this.

“You ready?”

Even if you say yes, you are definitely not ready for the sensation of Vanderwood stretching you. Somehow, he is larger than you remember, and you cry out as his tip rubs against your slick walls. He grips your thigh and pulls your leg to rest over his hip, giving him more access to your cunt.

You don’t dare hold back this time. Moans fall from your lips as Vanderwood thrusts into you. The bed creaks, so you throw your arms over his shoulders and drag your nails across his shoulder blades. “I missed you so much…”

Vanderwood grinds against you, pushing himself deep into you – he hits the spot that he knows makes you go insane. “Yeah? I can tell. Your pussy is pulsating around me.” His caramel hair falls over his eyes, so you push it back quickly and smile at him.

“V–Vanderwood–”

He nips the skin of your collarbone. “Yes baby girl?”

“Are you going to edge me again?”

“Hm…” Vanderwood tips his head back slightly when you clench down on him tightly. Biting his lip, he digs his fingertips into the supple flesh of your thigh. “How badly do you want to cum?”

You whine and arch your back against him. “Really bad…”

“Oh?”

“Daddy please.”

Again you say that, and again Vanderwood has a hard time restraining himself. Every time the name falls from your lips, he wants to fuck you senseless – but Vanderwood swallows the fantasies and saves them for another day. He bends his head to meet your nipple, and after giving it a soft lick, he teeths on it.

“Say that again. I’ve missed your voice.”

Your mind goes blank as he grips you tightly. You have forgotten how skilled he is with his tongue – it rolls over your skin as he sucks and bites on you, marking you, teasing you. “D-Daddy!”

“Fuck,” he groans in response. “Cum.”

“What?”

Vanderwood leans down against you and kisses the soft skin behind the back of your ear. “Cum for me.” His hand slips down to grab your ass, and he pushes you down harder onto his cock. It rubs against your most sensitive spot, and you tense before releasing – almost on command.

He bucks back and forth, now panting heavily, and his hair tickles your skin. Just as you feel his muscles contracting inside of you, Vanderwood pulls out and pumps himself hard. Still in a daze, you close your eyes and feel his seed paint your skin. It is warm and dribbles down your stomach.

As you come to it, Vanderwood presses his forehead against yours. “Damn… it’s good to be home, baby girl.” He pulls out and you slump against him.

“You had to do the whole fiasco to tell me that?” You laugh and pull him down for a sloppy kiss.

His arms wrap around your waist and he brings you flush against his chest. “Is that suggesting that you aren’t happy I’m back? Well this is awkward then.”

“No! Of course I’m happy you’re home–”

Vanderwood slaps your bare ass, making you yelp. He steps back and takes his pants and underwear off completely. “Then let’s clean up. I want to spend time with you tonight.” With that, he winks and pads off to the bathroom.

You lean back against bed frame and inhale slowly.

Damn he looks good walking away from you.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mystic messenger vanderwood #vanderwood #mysmes vanderwood #;)

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 7 years ago

Note

20.

thanks, bub! :-)

20. “D…Did you just make that noise?”________________________

It’s been a while since you had gone down on Harry.

The band had gone on hiatus, but Harry most definitely hadn’t. A couple of days after he’d arrived back home, he’d had to pack up all over again because, apparently, the shooting for the film he had been casted in was starting a month early. Right after the long while of filming with short breaks in between, Apple Music offered to do a documentary on the last couple of weeks Harry would be spending finishing the album and his manager had insisted he take it, so he did. He’d jetted off to Jamaica for two months with an apologetic frown on his face, leaving behind a chocolate rose as an apology with a tiny note that read, “I’ll make it up to you, pinky promise. - H”

In his absence, you’d taken it upon yourself to build up as many distractions as possible. A new job at a small cafe that had opened down the road to your apartment, taken up a book club membership at a local Barnes and Noble, and you juggled uni classes on weekdays. And when Harry finally got back to you after his album release and promo, sexual tension could be expected, all though neither of you mentioned anything about it.

That is, until one morning you wake up in a particularly frisky mood, padding across the wooden floor of the kitchen to where Harry is lounging against the marble counter in his matching Hawaiian print pajamas with a massive bed head, scrolling through his phone and eating a homemade yogurt parfait out of a Ceramic-It-Yourself bowl that you had finger-painted with Lux at her last birthday party. He’s spooning a big mound of yogurt into his mouth when he spots you, smiling softly over the utensil and mumbling a muffled, “Mornin’, pet.”

Harry opens one of his arms towards you, hinting that he wants his signature morning snuggle. Instead, you drop to your knees before him and begin to untie the loose band around his pajama bottoms.

His arm stays frozen out in the air as his eyebrows crease down at you in confusion, the metal spoon hanging out of the corner of his mouth as he holds the bowl in the other hand. “No morning hug?”

“Was thinking something a little more…up close and personal.” You grin up at him, pushing your tangled hair away from your face as you give his shorts a rough tug, allowing them to pool at his knees. You tuck him out of his briefs, giving his prick few sharp tugs as your tongue wets your chapped lips.

“I mean…’m not complaining.” Harry pops the spoon out of his mouth, setting it in the bowl and pushing his breakfast away to the end of the counter. He locks his phone and puts it face down, his free hand already sifting into your hair and pulling you closer to his already semi-hard morning wood.

It’s pretty shameful how fast he comes. It only takes about five minutes of sloppy licking, wet kisses, a bit of nibbling at the tip and a few tugs at his balls to get him working up a sweat. He’s whimpering all low and broken as he worries his bottom lip under his two front teeth, eyeing you hazily as you sink your mouth over him hotly, stroking to meet halfway and twisting whenever you feel him twitch.

“God, you’re so fucking good…” Harry’s voice is thick and strained as he bucks his hips to meet your movements, the hand in your hair tightening as he props the other up against the fridge, pressing his face into his forearm to try and stifle the small mewls that stream freely from his throat. “Such a pretty little mouth, baby, nice and warm and– shit, jus’ like that! Mmmhh…”

And then he’s spurting out in hot milky ribbons into your mouth and you pull back a bit, opening your lips and sticking out your tongue, placing the head of his cock snugly in the center so he can see the whole show. You pump him fast with sloppy jerks of your wrist, feeling him pool at the dip of your tongue.

“Fuck, don’t do that. You know what that does to m-me- ughhhh…”

Harry looks so hot with his eyes clamped shut and his jaw all taut, face squished against his arm as he fists his hair roughly and he’s sweating buckets.

Everything’s going as planned and you couldn’t be happier, until a certain sound cuts through the sticky air like a knife.

Your head snaps up, eyes wide in shocked surprise and eyebrows raised in disbelief. You pull back and swallow, releasing his now flaccid cock to sway slightly over the waistband of his briefs. Harry’s returning your gaze, but his own eyes hold a mixture of shame and disgust instead as he bites into his fist, hissing out a defeated, “Shit.” under his breath.

“D…Did you just make that noise?” You ask, not being able to keep the mocking amusement from filtering into your tone, your slightly agape mouth tilting up into a disbelieving smirk.

“Yeah…” Harry’s face seems to want to sink into itself, his nose crinkling up in embarrassment as his eyes screw shut, cheeks blossoming with shades of pink and red.

And then you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach and keeling over because the sound he had made was something so totally and completely fucking weird that you never thought it possible for human vocal chords to be able to produce something of the sort. The last moan he has let out (if you can even call it that) had sounded like a cross between a goat bleat and a car horn honking, coming out high-pitched and throaty and nasally and it kinda-of reminded you of a fart and you’re laughing even harder now because the look on Harry’s face is so utterly priceless that it’s worth the stomach ache.

Meanwhile, he’s looking over at his half-finished breakfast, wondering if it’s possible to drown one’s self in a bowl of yogurt. Maybe if he just stuck his nose in and snorted it, he might just get lucky. His entire neck and face are stinging and Y/N isn’t helping by rocking back and forth on the floor, laughing so hard she’s beginning to wheeze.

“Okayyy, enoughhhh,” He whines, nudging her side with his foot and pouting with fake anger that isn’t really fake. “I’m not gonna let you fuck me ever again if you don’t stop.”

You push yourself up onto your feet, standing up straight and biting down on your lip to try and tame your giggles. “If that’s the kind of noises you’re gonna make, I don’t think I have a problem with that.”

And then she’s laughing all over again as Harry’s face contorts into an expression of deep hurt, huffing and shouldering past her to go anywhere but here, his dick still out and swinging like a pendulum as he angrily tucks it back inside his pajama shorts.

“Wait, Har, come back! Come bahhhh-ck!”

“I hope you fucking choke.”

#JAJSJWJDJWKSKE #harry styles smut #1 down #like 15 to go fuCC #prompt

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virglows · 7 years ago

Text

Famous/Famous

♣︎ The Brightest Lights ♣︎ 70k by Rearviewdreamer

After watching yet another actor walk away with his Oscar, Louis is on the lookout for the role of a lifetime that might finally get him the one thing he has always wanted. He didn't think coming out of his self-proclaimed break to do another film would be all that difficult, but that was before he met his new co-star.

♦︎ Young Gods ♦︎ 77k by sincewewereeighteen

“Why don’t you stay?” Harry looked down at him and snorted. “What?” “You’re not my type, Louis”, the boy rolled his eyes sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his boots. “Says the man you just had sex with”, Louis pointed feeling smart, but Harry was one step ahead of him, with the answer on the tip of his tongue. “You see, if you were my type, I wouldn’t have”, Harry winked, cheeky as hell. “I would’ve gotten to know you first.” “Bullshit”, he accused the boy not letting it show how intrigued he was. “How can you know I’m not your type if you don’t know me?” “How about I list five things about you to prove I’m right and if any of them are false I’ll lie down again.” “Ok. Go.”

[Or: the one in which Louis is a model and Harry's supposed to be a normal guy... Until he isn't.]

♠︎ Amazing Sin ♠︎ 56k by thecheshirepussycat

Gears started turning in Louis’ head. Purely mischievous gears that had Louis formulating a revenge plan against Taylor. He’d had enough of sitting around and taking it. If she was going to call him a whore, then fine, he’ll act like one for real. “I’m going to say something, and as my friends you are obligated to love me anyway.”

“This can’t be good,” Niall said, Zayn just groaned.

“So I know we have this strict ‘no lashing back at Taylor’ rule with me, but what if I can get press revenge a different way?” Louis asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer, because they knew by now to just go with it. “What if I stole her boyfriend?”

Or, the story of Louis ‘Steal Your Man’ Tomlinson.

♥︎ Of Love and Blood and Hate ♥︎ 42k by orphan_account

“You auditioned without me,” Louis says, his voice disbelieving. “How the fuck can you stand there and hurl all this shit at me when you literally left me behind to go audition for the show we’d been dreaming of being on together?"

“What was I supposed to do, Louis? You refused to audition with me unless we were honest about being a couple. I knew we never would have made it past the first auditions. You left me no other choice; it was either audition alone or not audition at all."

Louis feels his own eyes start to fill with tears. “You chose a fucking reality show over our relationship. If you still don’t see that you made the wrong choice than I don’t think there’s any reason for me to waste another second here.”

A Famous/Non-Famous turned Famous/Famous AU where Harry makes the biggest mistake of his life and Louis’ left to pick up the pieces.

♣︎ you've set on me ♣︎ 31k by lissome

Harry’s been completely blindsided, is the thing. Like a car without headlights crashing into him. It’s not that he thought he’d never see Louis again in his life. It’s just this. He wasn’t ready for this.

au. louis' in an obscure band. harry's an international popstar. their paths aren't meant to cross, not like this, but when louis' band signs on as harry's opening act, both harry and louis are forced to confront the open wounds of their shared past.

♦︎ Time Bomb ♦︎ 291k by ThisSentimentalHeart

“Why exactly are you here?” Louis asked, feigning annoyance and failing pathetically at it. “My publicist told me I can't go anywhere near you.” Harry said, eyes still smudged with last night's eye liner. “That makes you my favorite person in the world.”

Or the one where Louis has everything: a lead role in a giant Hollywood franchise, a glittering new house with an entertaining Irish neighbor, and a steady, normal boyfriend who he probably loves. Louis never expected to become a household name among young Hollywood overnight. He also never expected to find something endearing about the enigmatic rockstar who keeps showing up on his back porch.

♠︎ come on jump out at me ♠︎ 56k by yoursongonmyheart

“you know, i offered for you to fake out me, but, i don’t know anything about you other than you being my biggest celebrity crush probably since posh spice.”

louis almost chokes on his chicken, “jesus christ,” he sputters.

harry takes a swig of his beer with a smirk. “i was very disappointed when you didn’t say i was your celebrity crush after you came out.”

louis almost cries. “you know i did plan on it. then i ran into you narrating taking a piss and talking about my ass and i thought ‘wow this kid does talk some shit’ and decided against it.”

harry barks out a laugh, his ears tinged red. he takes a bite of his pizza. “i suppose i do have no filter while high.”

louis rolls his eyes, “bit of an understatement, mate.”

harry giggles, “whatever pal,” louis screams internally.

----

Or, the one where actor louis tomlinson and one direction superstar harry styles try to fake a sex tape to help harry get out of the closet and they both get more than they bargained for.

♥︎ I have your dreams (and your teeth marks) ♥︎ 118k by aloqueera

Louis and Harry don’t believe in second chances, but sometimes it feels like the universe does. A Music Industry/Getting Back Together AU.

He remembers how they were, always, Louis and Harry, Harry and Louis. He remembers the late nights and the lie ins, all the words they gave each other. He remembers how Harry would look at him like he hung the moon, and like he knew Louis’d done it just for him. He remembers it all. The problem, he thinks, is that he remembers how it fell apart, too.

♣︎ Empty Skies ♣︎ 134k by green_feelings

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream -- making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.

Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He's still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Featuring Perrie as Harry's adorable flatmate, Niall as his manager, and Liam and Zayn as Louis' bandmates.

♠︎ Play Me Like One of Your French Girls ♦︎ 26k by zimriya

Louis is Hollywood’s ‘Bad Boy and Sometimes Darling’, and Harry is the clumsy, endearingly attractive part-time cellist whose cello gets upgraded to the seat next to his on the plane. They fall in love.

Also featuring R&B Superstar Zayn Malik, Olympic Gold Medalist Liam Payne, and Masterchef Niall Horan.

♣︎ In Vogue ♣︎ 121k by otpwhatever

‘Is that why David Beckham has been featured multiple times on the pages of your life’s work? Does your criteria seriously consist of one thing – a man’s ass?’ 'Well the ass is a man’s best asset,’ Harry smirks, holding the Martini glass high up his face. 'And don’t call the magazine my life’s work. There are far more important things in life, Louis Tomlinson, than what’s printed on the pages of a magazine.’

Fashion AU. Louis is the editor in chief of Vogue magazine, and Harry’s running British GQ. Featuring Zayn as the crazy creative director and Louis’ confidant, Liam as the sports writer that gets to sit front row at fashion week and DJ Neil as the only sane person in the whole story. (There are no skinny jeans in this fic)

♥︎ Fall At My Door ♥︎ 30k by FullOnLarrie

A-list actor Harry Styles and award-winning musician Louis Tomlinson have an acquaintances-with-benefits relationship, so whenever their busy professional lives happen to land them in the same city, they meet up. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.

And that’s all it is. Until it isn’t.

♠︎ Paint Me In A Million Dreams ♠︎ 110k by green_feelings

Harry's one of Hollywood's biggest actors, has made a name for himself in prestigious films and lives the life of a superstar. There's just one thing missing to make it picture-perfect, but the one Harry's in love with is completely out of reach for him. Enter Louis, one of Hollywood's biggest actors himself, who just came out of the closet and taps new genres in the industry. When Louis sacks the role Harry auditioned for in Scorsese's next big film, their irrational feud starts. Who could have guessed it would get even worse when for promo season, their teams decide to present them as a couple for publicity?

In short, Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

♦︎ lock me up with love ♦︎ 29k by clicheanna

“So you must go out more often than I thought,” Harry said. “I see you all the time now!”

“Well, one of those times you literally came to my door.”

Harry laughed, a loud honking sound, a shock to Louis’ ears. He couldn’t remember the last time he made someone laugh, not so easily and genuine.

Harry didn’t seem embarrassed, but his eyes were hazy, hair a bit mussed up, cheeks red. Oh. He was drunk, or tipsy maybe. That explained a lot.

“That’s true,” he said, then frowned. “Oh no, do I seem like a stalker?”

“Eh,” Louis said, “just a little bit.”

Louis had a messed-up knee, ruined career, and labradoodle to take care of. Harry had a normal knee, perfect career, and concern for his recluse neighbor. Harry's baking skills were enough to bring them together.

#fic masterpost

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definitelyundecideddifferent · 8 years ago

Text

A Gray day

Dusty chocolate

Fuck you and your myths

Half eaten bar of words unspoken

-Part piece of heart in grease

Left alone when asked to sing

I have a long reach when it comes to dreams.

Drenched trench coat

Unfriendly envelope waiting at the bottom of the stairs

My public figure is wishing you were here without clothes

Covered in dish soap

Lathered as I inch close

Home’s a hole away

Hope holds the cards he hopes you play

Chest close, hand tight, dice throw, play the game

Play the game

Tracing pictures,

Time spent blaming idiots

It’s idiotic and i can live with out it

Fold, two fives and I’m floundering

Agree to disagree on the boundaries

I just disagree because i like the sound of it

Now bite down for the best bit,

Play the game but more rested

Play the game like the rest did

Players aren’t but the game’s defensive

This reaction, represents the small percentage

That played the game like they meant it

just to realise no-one else did

This creams like velvet

You can’t back bench or top shelf this

Magic till your brain has melted

12 gang, but 13 for the outfit

Couch potato spouses

Now power shortage, outage

Elephant’s in the room becoming mouses

The cows have come home, but no fat lady to sing

Lest the label think that she’s solo

The laughing cow is stealing her promo

And her postcode

With no fans, sniff at her supporters

Tried to go the big time and made it awkward

Tried to be different and ended up being normal

Tried to keep it casual but just made it informal

Tried to played the game,

But didn’t plan forward

Made poor choice in words

Made proper her choice she heard

She’s made her choice but lost her nerve

No average sally,

She decides to eat her sentence because’s swallowed worse

Then follow’s through on the song at first

Feeling no honest verse,

She’d been written could compare

She took her turn at turn cursing

Firstly you for judging her

This figment predetermined took it personal

50/50 the face in your head isn’t fake at all

The madame has become more tangible

The face comes clear as, cute from this angle

Hair hanging down to throat from her mandible

Bet now she’s walking not standing still

Plays the game to make it all manageable

Passage passes

Frank instils, average handout of candid dreams

Cranks the lever, feed me more of those happy pills

Dropping out one by one the pattern chills

Tapped ash mounds on the grubby window cil

The if’s and butts, piled till they fill and spill out

From the time killed, the sink sales final clear down

The time’s come because we’re here now

day of days has come here how?

From your horse you peer down

From the bottom i sing loud

"We don’t wanna play the game, we want out

When do we want it? now

What do we want? out"

Whats wrong when we are whiling down

Teeth bared doesn't hide the frown

in fact exaggerated,

Spit in the eye to spite their faces

Graceless, it takes aim for fakes,

self-righteous racists

takes day by day, the nation through it’s paces

abuse in stages

Becomes evasive when required to do some explaining

The margin for error is rained in, when the line of best fit keeps changing

Soon politically unaware will be what awake is

And where do i fit in this great big… World?

Right where you saw me last

Fiddling the change to buy a glass

Saying he’s always skint but doesn’t do things by halves

Always take part

No faux pax, he showed the ring who the ropes are

He thread the needle of the distant star

And tied to twinkle to where you are

Take a cup something from the fire

You look cosy how you are

i know you are

you said you are

But what am I?

Who am I today ?

Time to play who i am

because life’s a game.

#poetry #my poetry #my poem #poetry corner #poetsofinstagram #poetryriot #twcpoetry

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one-soul-two-brothers · 8 years ago

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one-soul-two-brothers’ ultimate fic recs: wincest edition (part II)

how I chose these: Wincest fics are my (other) absolute faves to read First time fics are the best I like them to keep some semblance of canon Happy endings are a requirement A fic doesn’t have to have sex to be good (but it doesn’t hurt) They have all been thoroughly vetted (aka I’ve read them all at least twice, and will definitely be reading them all again)

ENJOY!

best SELF HARM / ED

title: Brittle rating: explicit word count: 30k summary: Sam Winchester has an eating disorder. excerpt: They pass another mile marker and Sam takes another bite, chews it over contentedly and Dean’s smile dulls a fraction. He eases up off the gas and waits, and waits, and waits. Sam doesn’t take another bite until they come up on another mile marker. Dean speeds up. The next bite comes faster, at the next mile marker. When Dean laughs again it’s edging into mania. anna’s notes: Hands down one of my all-time favorites. It’s so well-written, it incorporates canon seamlessly, and it’s completely believable. Just...go read it. Now.

title: My Only Home rating: explicit word count: 13k summary: Dean's been gone a while, running wild with a twisted soul and black eyes. When Sam finally brings him back, Dean realizes his little brother hasn't been doing well in his absence, and he has more important things to worry about than what he did as a demon. excerpt: Dean’s human again and Sam should eat something but he can’t. Instead he takes another sip of the whiskey and swears he can feel it collecting hot in his otherwise empty belly. He’s never had a relapse like this before, even though pushing his plate away has remained a default response for him any time they fight. If he and Dean are in the thick of it, Sam can’t eat, but usually they make up pretty quick. All the years and miles between them and the desperation has never really subsided. They never did do so well with words, anyway. They’ve always said everything they needed to without them – with touches, kisses, teeth and hands. Sam needs that right now, he needs it the way he’s always needed it, but he won’t go to Dean. He needs his big brother, but he knows that the only thing that matters is that they’re together again at all; the rest has to be Dean’s choice.

best DRUNK DIAL

title: Moderation Itself rating: explicit word count: 4100 summary: The brothers get into a fight (over something stupid, of course) and Sam leaves. The absence stretches from weeks to months, and one night Dean can’t take it anymore and drunk-dials Sam, leaving a very non-brotherly message. excerpt: The next day, he hit Florida. He spent three days in Jacksonville, killing a water spirit like something out of Greek mythology, and then he was on the road again, passing through Georgia and Alabama and on up into Tennessee. Next thing he knew, it'd been a week since he'd gotten laid, and then two. It wasn't that he didn't have opportunities—hell, he was Dean Winchester, chicks practically fell onto his dick every time he walked into a bar—he just couldn't stop thinking about Sam, and how Sam apparently wanted to fuck Dean so bad that he'd up and left—Sam, his baby brother, who Dean had spent his whole fucking life trying to protect.

best FUCK OR DIE

title: Who Looks Inside, Awakes rating: explicit word count: 6600 summary: Dean finds himself the victim of spirit which drains life by inducing erotic nightmares. There's only one solution, but he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it at all...

best WEECEST

title: It Started Out With A Kiss rating: explicit word count: 17k summary: Sam has a date. That's not the problem. The problem is that Sam's asking Dean to teach him how to kiss. The problem is that this kiss changes everything. anna’s notes: I’m not a big fan of weecest in general (mainly because I like later-season fics) but this one is cute. And Sam is 17 here.

best MPREG

title: Riot Gear rating: mature word count: 21k summary: Shortly before they ganked Dick Roman Sam became pregnant. He either knew and didn't tell Dean because he didn't want to give Dean any more pressure or he had no idea at all. The stress and trauma of seeing Dean and Cas disappear along with Crowley taking off with Kevin sends Sam into a downward spiral. The added stress from hitting Riot causes Sam to have a miscarriage. Sam spends time recovering physically, but not emotionally, with Amelia who knows not to ask about the baby.When Dean gets back and reams Sam out for not looking for him, Sam can't bring himself to tell Dean what happened. He thinks Dean will blame him for losing their kid and that it'll be the final straw. anna’s notes: This is the first mpreg I’ve ever read mostly because I think it’s kinda weird. But I actually really liked this one! It’s totally heartbreaking (but it does eventually have a happy ending.)

best PLOT WHAT PLOT

title: You’re Possessing Me rating: explicit word count: 3200 summary: Dean goes looking for something to get himself off to--he's in no way expecting to stumble on porn vids of Sam. But now that he has, he's becoming obsessed.

title: untitled rating: explicit word count: 1000 summary: Dean buys a “create-a-cock” vibrator kit. excerpt: “You don’t think it’d be beneficial to you to watch me fuck myself using it? Or if we had to spend the night apart on a case or something, and you could watch how much I miss you on your laptop?” Dean stalks up to Sam, getting into his space and hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans. “That doesn’t sound like anything you’d like at all?”

title: Nothing Is Enough For Me rating: explicit word count: 3300 summary: Sam uses the hotel shampoo and it causes an unexpected reaction. excerpt: Without taking his eyes off the road, Dean reaches over and pushes Sam’s hair back behind his ear. His fingers slide through the silky strands and his fingertips graze Sam’s temple, tracing almost delicately over the curve of Sam’s ear before pulling away. It’s a simple, casually intimate gesture, something that would normally make Sam grin like a dork at the display of sweetness from his brother. Only today, whatever the shampoo was doing to Sam’s scalp made Dean’s touch race through him like an electric pulse. It sent goosebumps spreading down his arms and sides, even making his nipples hard. His eyes practically roll back in his head and he shudders in his Fed suit like Dean had just run his fingernails hard up Sam’s naked back.

best SEASON 12 CODAS (episodes 1-11)

title: untitled (12x02) summary: Fix-it for the missing Brother Hug. anna’s notes: Ficlet. Shameless self-promo.

title: untitled (12x02) summary: The aftermath of Sam’s torture. anna’s notes: Ficlet.

title: First Crush (12x03) summary: Sam tells Mary about his first crush. anna’s notes: Ficlet. Probably my favorite ficlet ever.

title: untitled (12x07) summary: Sam’s stronger than Lucifer. anna’s notes: Ficlet.

title: Your Billie Will Explode if You Mix Them with Soda (12x09) rating: mature word count: 1140 summary: A short coda to "First Blood": what happened when they died. excerpt: “You will let us into our heaven while we’re dead.” “You must be joking.” “Non-negotiable.” “I hope you two decide it’s gonna be you, Dean.” “Yeah, I get that.”

title: Like A Virgin (12x09) excerpt: Circumstances being what they were, lube was not an option, so as soon as he bent Sam over and shoved Sam’s prison uniform down his body Dean spit into his palm, fingers circling Sam’s hole. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Dean murmured in awe. “Like a fucking virgin again.” anna’s notes: Ficlet. Disgustingly hot.

title: After Blood (12x09) rating: explicit word count: 1244 summary: Sam and Dean take comfort in each other. excerpt: But when Billie had asked the question, when Dean had looked at Sam for what could have been the last time? He didn’t want to leave him, but he knew there was no way he could lose him either.

title: Coda 12.11 excerpt: The brother that had come in on the tail end of all of that had startled the living fuck out of him. There’d been no way to dodge the messy truth that had hit him like a hammer to the chest a moment later, and it had left a heart-deep, bone-deep bruise that Dean was pretty sure was going to hurt until he died. Because he’d known even then, amid the fading violet glow from the grimoire, that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, tell Sam about this, couldn’t ask the kid for this... anna’s notes: Ficlet. A+.

title: Distraction (12x11) rating: teen+ word count: 2200 summary: Losing his memories means that Dean loses inhibitions Sam didn't even know he had. excerpt: Dean’s smirk is fully back in place. He’s still up against the wall where Sam had pushed him, still shirtless and of course, still stunning. He licks his lips oh so slowly, eyes sliding down Sam’s body to where Sam is still hard in his pants. Sam’s breath is still coming short, and he scrambles for a way to stop this while he still can. Dean is like a child, he thinks, frustrated because Dean has always been better with kids than he has. What would he do with a child who wanted to do something they shouldn’t?

title: Until You Come Back Home (12x11) rating: mature word count: 4800 excerpt: Cas wonders, as he often does, if he should tell Sam that he knows what it really is that he needs. He decides that tonight, after all these years, he finally will. They’re not getting any younger, after all, and he’s mainly stayed out of it because he didn’t truly believe that two people so singularly and utterly devoted could be that stubborn and obtuse. It’s maddening, and it almost seems purposeful, how they ignore each others’ signals, like they each have that secret locked down so tight (out of shame, probably, or guilt), each other’s light can’t get through. It’s tragic, almost, if he’s being completely honest. anna’s notes: Okay but this is just fan-fucking-tastic. Starts off from Castiel’s POV but changes to the brothers’. First time, super sweet, just...so good. Go read it.

For my other ultimate fic recs (j2 non-au, j2 au, and wincest), go here.

#mine #ultimate fic recs #wincest #fic rec

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