and tiny trunks

A Good Brother

Since he was a little boy, Charles Weasley saw Voldemort as his personal boggeyman. Even if  he’d never met the man in person, little Charlie was terrified of that person who’s name shouldn’t be said that made his parents sad and angry. He would ask every night for his  parents to check under his bed if he wasn’t there. The idea of a mass murderer hiding in his son’s room always started an ugly laughter in Arthur Weasley’s throat. But every night, he complied and assured Charlie he was safe and had nothing to fear. It was a lie of course. They both knew it.

Charlie knew he was right to be scared when he was eight and he saw his mother cry for the first time. He entered the kitchen one morning and saw her curled on her chair, a piece of parchement resting on the table. Charlie sneaked in to try and read the paper. His first fear was that something happened to one of his brothers. Because that was what his dad and mum often talked about when they thought Bill and Charlie were asleep. The words were small and complicated, but Charlie could decypher two names, Fabian and Gideon. His parents hated lying to their children, so they told them that their uncles were fighting You-Know-Who and died.  They didn’t say they were killed, but Charlie kind of understood that. He wasn’t sure what death really was just yet, but Bill told him it meant he would never see his uncles again. When he saw the twin caskets, a couple days later and watched them disappear in the ground, Charlie cried. He didn’t make a noise, because no one was talking, and you’re not supposed to be loud if everyone else is quiet. He simply gripped Bill’s hand and followed him around. For years, Charlie would dream of twin caskets in which his siblings were resting.

At school, Charlie was gentle and popular enough that people didn’t make fun of him if he ever got surprised crying because he was missing his brothers and sister. They would simply go look  for Bill, and later Percy, and either would comfort him and help him write letters home. Charlie was terribly bad with words and never knew how to get his thoughts across. In return for his letters, he would get drawings and pictures. He kept them preciously in his bedside table.

When he was thirteen, Charlie kissed a girl. She was pretty and smelled nice but even he didn’t feel much. There was no butterfly or firework in his belly like he’d been told he’d feel. At sixteen, Charlie kissed a boy, and though it was nice enough too, it wasn’t special enough to have him wanting to do it often. He’d learned about dragons the previous year though, during a class of Care About Magical Creatures. That lit his eyes up and made him daydream far more than any kisses could.

Charlie left Hogwarts the summer before Ron entered it. He left home in August, and headed to Romania to study dragons. He’d already read every book from the Library and was ready to meet people who’d understand his passion. Charlie made friends, and was teased for chosing a hermit life  in forests with giant lizards over becoming a Quidditch star. He didn’t mind, because at the end of the day, he got to see dragon eggs and share hot cocoa with his colleagues. The highlight of his year was still when his parents and sister came to visit. He also managed to get Bill to drop by. They got drunk and Bill listened to him cry about how much he missed all of their siblings. Charlie kept the drawings and photographs in a tiny box in his trunk. When spring came around and he received Ron’s letter asking him to smuggle a baby dragon, all his friends exploded in laughter and were ready to go before he even finished his explanations. They already knew Charlie would do anything for his siblings.

Charlie wasn’t there when Ron got hurt saving the world at the end of his first year. He came back for summer and bought Ron as many candies as he could eat. Sometimes, being a good brother is in discreet celebrations.

Charlie wasn’t there when his baby sister got possessed and left for dead in a mythical chamber. When summer came and Ginny left school, paler and more silenced than ever, Charlie kept a vigilant  eye on her. He didn’t go back to Romania for months. And when Arthur won the Daily Prophet Grand Prise Galleon Draw, Charlie was the one to suggest they should all go visit Bill. Sometimes, being a good brother is knowing your presence and a change of scenary are the best medicine.

Charlie was there when the Death Eaters attacked supporters celebrating a victory - or drinking the bitter taste of loss away. He went to fight alongside the Ministry to protect his siblings and everyone who needed it. He also stayed the rest of the summer in the Burrow. Sometimes, being a good brother is making sure your siblings and their friends have an open ear if they need to talk their fears away.

Charlie wasn’t there when Harry, his adopted but estranged sibling, watched Voldemort come back from the dead. From Charlie’s childhood nightmares. He learned about it in one of Ginny’s letters and got his worst burns when her words resonnated in his head as he was tending a dragon. In his head, Ginny had that same terrified voice as when she was twelve and asking him if Tom would come back. Charlie felt like he’d been lying to her for years, telling her she was safe and had nothing to fear. That Tom would never come back. Sometimes, being a good brother is forgetting how life doesn’t always follow your hopes.

Charlie wasn’t there when his father got attacked by an evil snake. Charlie wasn’t there when Dumbledore’s tiny army raided the Ministry. He came back to see the greying hair on his father’s head and the scars on Ron’s arms. Ron laughed it off. Charlie cried it out. Sometimes, being a good brother is shading tears other people won’t cry.

Charlie lived in Romania. He loved it, loved the people, the country, and above all his job. But when Charlie came back to Bill’s comatose and broken face, he considered never leaving again. Bill had always been his best friend, his safety in the chaos that was their family. Charlie hugged Fleur and helped her chose her wedding dress. He was Bill’s best man and joked, more than once, that Bill was actually the best man he knew. The three of them got drunk at a pub a few miles from the Burrow and he recalled every embarassing moment of Bill’s childhood. Sometimes, being a good brother is making your sibling blush and hit you in the face as their fiancée is bending in laughter and coughing beer out of her nose.

Charlie wasn’t there when Fred died.

Charlie was there to see his mother cry and his brothers collapse.

Charlie was there to see Ginny stand, tall and proud and clutching Harry’s hand so she wouldn’t get lost.

Sometimes, being a good brother is knowing that there are days when you can’t be the good brother.

Charlie was there when Victoire was born.

Charlie was there to see Bill cry and his siblings scream.

Charlie was there to hold the tiny baby and let her grip his finger.

Charlie was there when Ginny wrote that she was pregnant and wanted to see him. Everytime.

Charlie was there when Fred II asked to learn how to fly and neither George nor Angelina had the heart to teach him.

Charlie was there when Lucy got in another fight with her parents and needed a place to let her anger out. He was also there to bring her back home and make sure she’d apologize to Percy.

Charlie was there when Hugo felt inadequate and lonely in their giant family.

Charlie was there to talk about kissing boys and girls, about how sometimes people liked it and sometimes they just didn’t care.

Charlie was there to give pets as presents, as siblings and in-laws pretended they didn’t know about it.

Charlie was there every step of the way in his nieces and nefews’ lifes.

He quickly needed a larger box to gather all the drawings and pictures he kept receiving. (Hermione gave him an enchanted one)

Sometimes, being a good brother is being a good uncle.

The Kitchens

part v

It appeared to be all consuming, the act of kissing someone. Sirius was slightly surprised by this. He’d kissed loads of girls before, in fact he’d done quite a bit more than simply kiss them. But he questioned it now… had he kissed them? He didn’t think so, not really.

It had never been like this before.

It had never been that each and ever act or thought his body and mind performed somehow stemmed back to the kiss, to Remus. It hadn’t even been particularly long. It had been rushed, lost in the heat of the moment. Wonderful, but nothing monumental as far as kissing goes. Sirius had led him to bed afterwards and forced himself to walk away. He’d apologized afterwards and taken it back. As far as kissing goes, it honestly should be considered rather awful. But it wasn’t.

Sirius felt slightly sick with nerves, standing there surrounded by the whirling action of of the First Bloom Ball preparations. Stray petals scattered themselves on the floors of the long hallways, having fallen off of the millions of bouquets that were being transported into every part of the castle imaginable. Noble and servant girls alike stood around in groups, chattering and working excitedly, hoping desperately that they would receive a bloom from whichever boy it was they dreamt about. It was rumored that the one who gave you the bloom was the one who remained yours forever. Sirius allowed himself a small smile at this. The idea had never appealed to him until now. Then again, the idea had never applied to him either. It still didn’t but he allowed the smile all the same.

Sirius felt the eyes of many on him as he strode about the room. He knew it was because of the party, but he couldn’t help but notice the eyes lingering on his head more than his face, or, more specifically, his crown. He didn’t make a habit of wearing it about but it was one of those days that his mother had insisted. She did that occasionally. He liked it fine and all. It sat comfortably, if not a bit heavily, but he could definitely do without the attention—something he knew his mother valued above all else. He only made the mistake of making eye contact twice before the barely repressed squeals that followed taught him to keep his eyes pleasantly aloof from any one person, discreetly searching for the dark mass of hair that was James. He finally spotted it peaking out from behind a particularly large bouquet. He pulled on his jacket some, straightening it, before all but speed walking over to him, waiting by the double doorway then falling into step with his stride.


James’ face appeared between two pink peonies, “S-“ His face straightened, eyes glancing around, “Your Royal Highne-“

“My mum isn’t here. Can you come?”

James heaved out a sigh as he let the vase carefully down on the table, dusting various shades of what looked like pollen from his shirt. Sirius distastefully glanced only briefly at the yellow stains it left behind.

James raised an eyebrow, “I’m thinking you’re forgetting that status of our relationship.”

Sirius blinked, “What?”

James raised both eyebrows now, offering a smile, “Sirius, it isn’t a matter of if I can come. If you want me somewhere, I go.”

Sirius knew this wasn’t meant as a blow. James was probably joking, relieved that he was getting out of work. But it was true. James couldn’t refuse. Sirius thought briefly back to the way Remus had kicked him out that night of the chocolate cake. The heat that was becoming familiar to him very quickly filled his chest at the memory and he motioned his head for James to follow him. He was doing this. He could do this. This was James.

Sirius walked until they were nearly half way across the castle, in the predictably quiet West parlor. He motioned for James to shut the door.

“What’s this about? I can’t be gone for too long. My mum would have my head.”

Sirius could have laughed at his particular choice of words if he hadn’t been so bloody nervous.

“Well, I’m certainly about to tell you something that could cost me mine.”

James froze half way between standing and sitting on the couch. He rose again, “Come again?”

Sirius sighed and pushed on his shoulders until he plopped down on the cushions, then sat on the lean wooden table across from him. He took a shaky breath, lacing his fingers together across his knees. He went to open his mouth, but suddenly found that his jaw wouldn’t cooperate.

James spluttered, “Mate, you can’t lead with a phrase like that then sit on it.” He waited a moment more then shoved Sirius’ shoulder, “Come on.”

“I kissed someone.”

James blinked, mouth falling open in surprise. Sirius suddenly wished there was a fire crackling, or a rainstorm outside, anything to fill the silence.

“Oh.” James shook his head a little then laughed, “Well, what’s so bad about that? Your mum doesn’t approve of her?”

Sirius looked at him.

The realization spread quickly over James face and he nodded again, “Oh… Oh. Does- Does she know?”

“No one knows.” Sirius said quickly, “You know, I know, and- and… she knows.” Sirius swallowed.

Sirius felt like he was swallowing over his heart. He surprised himself with just how desperate he was to shout that it wasn’t a she, and that it hadn’t felt like just a kiss.

James went to speak again, but Sirius held up his hand, suddenly glad he had some power of James. He didn’t know how many questions he could lie his way through.

“Just listen, alright?” He sat back, letting his hand rest nervously against his thigh once more, “I need you to do something.”


Remus had spent the better part of the minutes between three and four in the morning running his hands over the soft fur of Sirius’ slippers over and over. By the time he had to get ready, he almost felt guilty stashing them away in his tiny moldy trunk at the base of his bed, underneath a pile of old shirts. The flower too, that had somehow remained tucked into his hair, got flattened between the pages of an old book he found in there. Maybe it was more sadness than guilt. Things so wonderful shouldn’t even been associated with such items, much less wedged between them.

He missed the feeling of the soft leather against his heels. He swallowed. He missed the feeling of Sirius’ hands on his skin. His mouth…

There was a hiss from in front of him and he jolted backwards at the steam issuing from the nearly over boiling pot of tomato soup.

“Shit.” He crouched, using the long iron tongs to push the heavy pan to the side, away from the flames, causing the bubbling to subside.

“Since when are you such a day dreamer?”

Remus turned his head to Mrs. Potter who was giving him a sly smile over her steadily growing mound of peeled potatoes. He offered her a slightly sheepish, slightly tight one of his own, “No. I mean- yes. I mean, sorry. I don’t know where I was.”

Mrs. Potter laughed, “Don’t apologize for dreaming, Remus. If anything apologize for the swearing.” Her eyes were kind and reflected the firelight warmly, “But never for the dreaming.”

Remus had to turn his head away. He didn’t want her to see his face fall, his grin succumb to uneasiness. He let the soup swing back into place and eased the fire down to a bluish flicker, then stood and dusted his hands on his apron.

He hesitated a moment, hands pressed to his thighs, before turning around slowly on his heel, “Um. While we’re… I… Just, about dreaming…”

Mrs. Potter’s knife flew on the potatoes and she didn’t look up, but hummed in a way that let him know he had her complete attention. Remus was glad for the lack of eye contact.

“If you…” He paused, desperately trying to think of his words carefully and quickly at the same time, “If you… have something. A dream. Something good, but you know…” he walked forward, pressing his hands to the cool counter top, “you know it isn’t going to last, this dream. This something good…” Mrs. Potter finally looked up at him, fingers stilling, and Remus swallowed before finishing, “do you think it’s worth it? Dreaming it up at all?”

Mrs. Potter looked at him for a moment thoughtfully, then went right back to peeling, “Hm.” She took a breath, “There’s a tale of two brothers. They’re walking in the forest and they come across a stone.” Remus looked at her quizzically but she pressed on, “On the stone are instructions on how to live ten years of pure bliss and happiness, full of riches and power. One brother follows them. He climbs a mountain, he wrestles a bear, he crosses a stream until he comes to a house that holds an enchantress that gives him what he came for. The brother becomes king of a large village with all the money and happiness one could want.” She hands Remus a few potatoes of his own and a knife then continues, “It lasts for ten years, just as the stone said. After his ten years of bliss, his kingdom falls, the woman he loves leaves him, his people turn against him. He is left powerless, loveless, and friendless. He has nothing to do but turn to the only person who knew him before he became what he was.”

“His brother.” Remus supplied, peeling slowly, more intent on listening.

Mrs. Potter nodded slightly in his direction, the pile beside her growing as she spoke, words rich and purposeful, “Exactly. Now, his brother had refused to take the instructions. He claimed that he was happy right then, with the life he was living. He didn’t know what would happen after ten years, so why risk it? He had a modest home, a good wife, had enough money to put basic food on his table. Why take the risk?”

“Well, he’d be happy for a time, at least. Truly happy.” Remus twirled his knife thoughtfully against the wooden counter, the point creating a small indent in the wood, “Why would he settle for something that he was just… content with when he could have something fantastic like his brother did, for even a little while…”

Remus trailed off, suddenly realizing what he was saying. Mrs. Potter was looking somewhat knowingly at him, almost too knowingly for Remus’ comfort.

“Well, I do believe you’ve just answered your own question, love.”

Remus felt his cheeks flush and he smiled, flicking a potato skin in her direction and making her laugh, eyes crinkling. They worked in silence after that, the soft scraping being the only sound that filled the room.

Remus supposed he had answered his own question. He had something good right now. Something better than anything he’d ever had in his life. He had someone. Or at least he was beginning too. Would he really be able to give that up, to give Sirius up, out of, what, fear? Fear of the future? It was there. It was definitely a real fear. There was no hope for them. They had kissed, Sirius had smiled, Sirius had apologized, Sirius had taken it back, Sirius had left. That in itself said it, right there: They both knew, if this began, how it would end. Remus closed his eyes briefly. If it hadn’t been for the remembered feeling of Sirius’ hands on his skin, Sirius’ lips on his own, he would have been decided right there. End it. Sooner rather than later. But logic was consumed by emotion, planning consumed by memories.

Remus’ voice sounded louder when he spoke again, hands slowing, “He’d have the memories, at least.” Remus swallowed, “When it was all over, I mean.” He felt Mrs. Potter’s eyes on him and looked up too, “That’s worth something, isn’t it? He’d remember the happiness. That’s worth the risk?”

She thought for a moment, her own hands slowing as well, knife gliding smoothly, “Memories are tricky, I think. Remembering them is okay, good even. They can take us back to that time, that place. We can feel what we felt again, or almost what we felt. But living in them… it gets dangerous. I suppose it depends on the person, and how valuable they think the memories will be to them. If they would value the memories over their own present happiness.” She looked at him again, eyes slightly more serious but not alarmingly so, “That past can be a tempting thing, Remus.”

And Remus probably knew then. He could feel a ghost of what unbearable weight could eventually settle on his heart if he let this happen, if he let this happen until it…couldn’t anymore. Until it stopped. And it would stop. But he isn’t in the past yet. He’s in the present. And aren’t people always saying to ‘live in the now’?

What a dangerous expression that is, and perhaps the most tempting thing of all.


The already hot air rose about ten degrees when Sirius swung open the door to the kitchens. He probably should have noticed the pies cooling by the window first, or the sharp smell of spices and butter in the air, or the obscenely large pile of white potatoes on the island. But he zeroed in on Remus almost instantaneously, and for a moment all he could feel was him, was last night. His frostbitten skin that turned to warm cheeks and soft kisses and tangled hair-

“Oh my. Your Royal Highness.”

Sirius blinked away from the wide amber eyes and to Mrs. Potter standing next to him. And yes, he definitely should have noticed that.

He tried to shake off his surprise and gave his best yes-I-am-your-charming-prince smile, only to wince a little at remembering how that smile made Remus frown. His expression most likely turned out rather odd.

“I- hello.”

Mrs. Potter smiled kindly at him and bowed her head respectfully. Sirius glanced at Remus, whose eyes were still fixed on him, hoping desperately he wouldn’t do the same, but knowing he had too. It felt odd, wrong, to see Remus acting like a subject in front of him. Sirius straightened uncomfortably as Remus bowed too, a male’s bow, lower and one had behind his back. Sirius wanted to grip his shoulders and stop him, maybe with a kiss if he was lucky-

“My prince, what might we help you with this evening?” When Sirius just stood there after a moment, Mrs. Potter glanced at Remus, confused, “Or… Or have you come on behalf of the Queen, perhaps?”

“No.” Sirius said quickly, snapping back into himself, what he was brought up to be, “No, nothing of the sort. I’m hear on purely…” he glanced at Remus once more, “physical business.” He had to fight off the smirk at Remus’ flushed cheeks, and looked back to Mrs. Potter, “I require you to fetch Nurse Pomfrey, if you would. Quickly please. I fear my cheek is rather infected.”

Mrs. Potter squinted slightly, obviously worrying over the gash on Sirius’ upper cheek, before nodding, bowing again, and rushing out of the room.

Sirius wasted no time.

It had it perks, being tall, and he closed the distance between him and Remus in just four strides, pressing his hands to Remus’ cheeks at the same time as Remus’ went to his hair. And if Sirius had thought the last kiss had been good, he felt nearly knocked off balance by this one. Remus fingers wound tightly into his hair, pulling and knocking the crown slightly askew as he kissed him, breath hot and needing, filling Sirius to the brim with relief and he doesn’t regret this, he wants this as much as you do.

“Jesus, the one time you choose not to be alone.” Sirius sighs into his mouth, thumbs stroking over Remus’ cheeks, imagining he can feel each freckle there and keep them.

“The one time you choose to wear this bloody thing.”

Sirius laughs. He noses gently along Remus’ cheek, relishing in how fucking natural it feels, like he’d been doing it for months and years and eternity.

Remus laughs too, “Honestly, the first time I get to kiss you without being nervous and you restrict me with this.”

“Excuse you, you had James’ mum next to you. Who’s restricting whom?”

Remus smiles, leaning into the place where Sirius presses a kiss to his cheek, and straightens the crown atop Sirius’ head before letting his hands fall to his neck, “Hm. I suppose you’re right.”

Sirius just lets their foreheads rests together, already dreading having to pull away, “Did you just say you were nervous to kiss me?”

He practically feels Remus roll his eyes, “We were both nervous.”

“I wasn’t nervous.”

Sirius feels a little pinch on his shoulder, “Yes, you were.”

He smiles, “Yeah, I was.”

Remus laughs again then lets out a long breath, nudging their faces closer together. They’re silent for a few moments, just enjoying the other being there.

Sirius feels reluctant to break the quiet. It feels like they’re in their own little bubble, protected from whatever this world would throw at them. But he has to ask before Mrs. Potter comes back with Pomfrey.

“Will you meet me? Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Remus questions, “Tonight’s the ball.”

“Tonight.” Sirius slides his hands from Remus’ cheeks, to his waist, feeling the well worn linen beneath his fingertips, “West parlor. Where we met.”

Remus smiled at the memory, “What a pompous little prick you were.”

Sirius laughed, hands tightening around Remus’ shirt and pulling their chests together. He didn’t miss the small gasp Remus let out, “I’m still a pompous little prick. Just not around you.” He tilted his head to the side, lips hovering over Remus’, “And I’m not so sure about little.”

Remus hummed, seeming more intent on closing the distance between their mouths than actually answering.

The sound of footsteps made them both jump terribly, but Sirius pulled Remus back against him, just for a moment, savoring, needing, “Say you’ll come.” He whispered.

Remus pressed his palms once against Sirius’ cheeks, lips quick to steal one more kiss, “Of course I’ll come.”

They stepped apart, Sirius moving to the other side of the table. Mrs. Potter entered, alone.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her, “And Pomfrey?”

Mrs. Potter looked absolutely bewildered to see him still standing in the kitchen. She glanced at Remus who had turned away, pretending to tend to the fire. Sirius longed to glance too, maybe get a quick view of-

“You- Your Highness, I didn’t expect you to be here. I would have thought you would return to your chambers, I’ve sent Pomfrey there. My greatest apologies-“

Sirius rolled his eyes a little and then, with the way her face fell and mouth snapped shut, he wished he hadn’t. He was suddenly desperately glad Remus wasn’t looking.

The truth was that Remus was correct. He was a pompous prick. It seemed to go along with his inheritance. But he didn’t want to be. He had to let Remus know he was trying, he was changing.

“No matter.” He supplied, “I will seek her there.” He almost turned, then stopped himself. He had to try, “The- The food smells wonderful, by the way.” He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably, then dipped his head, just slightly, “Thank you, Mrs. Potter.”

He turned on his heel and left, leaving a wide eyed Mrs. Potter in his wake.

She turned to Remus, who was still desperately stoking the fire.

“Well. That- That was rather kind of him, wasn’t it?”

Remus kept himself turned away, hiding the grin that felt like it was nearly splitting his cheeks in two.

“It was. Maybe he’s having a good day.”

Sorry it’s a bit shorter! I just felt like I got a lot across in this chapter that should be separate from what is coming in the next. I hope you enjoy! I’ll definitely try to be more regular at updating now that school is over! Thanks for sticking with me <3 <3 <3 <3

loonyloopylisa  asked:

College au? Meeting bc they're wearing complimentary costumes.


Bucky had almost stepped in when he saw sexy batgirl, the first time. She wasn’t sexy batgirl in the way of most sexy costumes, in the way of the sexy crayons mackin’ on each other in the hallway, or the sexy red and gold robot guy in the booty shorts who kept hittin’ on Stevie. She was sexy batgirl in that she was wearing a comics-accurate batgirl costume and she was, y’know, sexy - and more than capable of handling the drunk fratboys who had decided to hassle her some. Thirty seconds after he considered helping out, he was hauling their groaning bodies out onto the porch, kicking ‘em down the steps and telling them they weren’t welcome back. 

“Yo, Dick,” someone called, and Bucky whirled around, expectin’ to see one of the jerk fratboys’ jerk friends, his hands curling into fists automatically. It took him a second to spot the guy, ‘cos you just didn’t expect - he was perched on the arm of a streetlight like it was a park bench, cute green pixie boots kicking back and forth and silky yellow cape flapping a little in the wind. 

“How the hell -” he muttered. “Get down from there! You’re gonna cause property damage,” he hollered up at the guy, who started laughing straight off. 

“You’re worried about the goddamn streetlight?” he choked out. 

“You got your dumb ass up there, no one else’s fault if you get hurt,” Bucky said. 

“Well ain’t you just the milkman of human kindness,” the guy said, leaning back in a way that had Bucky lunging forward, ‘cos his asshole tendencies were pretty much all talk anyhow. He watched, open mouthed, as the guy grabbed the streetlight with both hands, let his ass slide off and hooked his knees over it, hanging down like he was a goddamn trapeze. 

His hair was too light for his costume, but the rest was accurate, down to the tiny green trunks and the flesh colored pantyhose. Bucky had gone for the unquestionably cooler version, skintight and black and blue, but this guy’s Dick still managed to be incredibly hot. 

Grayson. His Dick Grayson


“Get your ass down from there before you kill yourself,” he yelled, and the guy threw him an inverted salute before doing something incredibly gymnastic that ended with a tuck and a roll and a grin way too close for Bucky’s state of mind. 

“The big brother thing part of the costume, Nightwing, or does it come natural?” Robin asked, and close up he was a lot bigger than he ought to be, in that costume. He smirked a little with half his mouth, and paired with the costume there was something a little filthy about it. Bucky licked his lips. 

“Brotherly ain’t exactly the word,” he said, daring, and Robin’s eyes darkened. 

“Fuck it,” Robin said, and the arm he wrapped around Bucky’s waist was muscular as all hell. “How often d’you get the opportunity to make out with yourself?” 

anonymous asked:

That feeling when a customer comes in to buy three bar stools and when you get it to their tiny car their trunk is full of water bottles and their back seats have two kinds car seats. Where did you expect me to put these three boxes, lady?

Summer Mood Board as H+L Fics

Making this mood board fic inspiration was fun, so in honor of @hlsummerexchange2017, I made a Summer Mood Board as different types of fics:

Top Left: Famous/Famous AU
Harry has just bought his dream house after years of toiling away trying to make it as an actor. And, well, it would be his dream house if not for the minor detail of having to share a pool with the neighbor. The real estate agent assured him it wouldn’t be a problem, but the real estate agent didn’t mention that said neighbor happened to be Louis Tomlinson – Oscar-nominated actor and star of Harry’s more explicit dreams for most of his adult life. Harry tries to avoid the pool as much as he can, but Louis seems disinclined to do the same. Harry is forced to watch as his celebrity crush flaunts his body every day, laying around the pool in tiny swim trunks. When Harry finally works up the courage to go out there (how can he avoid it anymore? It’s a thousand degrees outside!), Louis smirks and says “I was wondering when you were going to stop watching and start joining me, Curly.” 

Top Middle: Farmer’s Market AU
Harry spends every Friday night meticulously hand crafting homemade popsicles – carrot ginger, raspberry tart, mint julep – in order to sell them on Saturday mornings at the local farmer’s market. Louis runs the stall next to him, and can’t help but mercilessly tease Harry every single time he sees them. Many arguments about ‘hipster bullshit’ erupt between them, until one day Louis shows up claiming he can do just as well as Harry, and begins to sell his own popsicles. Harry gets incredibly flustered, because he spends hours lovingly handcrafting homemade treats, and Louis is peddling Bomb Pops for a dollar a piece. This turns into a competition of who can sell the most mundane items to unsuspecting ‘hipster’ patrons, and they both can’t help but fall a little in love with each other. 

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Drew McIntyre/Reader
Fluff with a touch of smut; 950 words


You’ve known Drew a few years, seen him around, but NXT’s the first time you’ve been in the same company at the same time. Which is good, because you’ve become friends, but also bad, as the vague thing you’ve always had for him has blossomed into what is beginning to feel like a painfully awkward crush. Though you can’t blame yourself, because you’re honestly not sure how anyone could spend any time at all around Drew and not end up with a crush on him. Not only is he tall, built, and impossibly good looking, but he’s also the sweetest person alive. It’s just unfair.

But you’re friends, and you already value that friendship enough that don’t want to ruin it by making things weird. So, you keep your feelings to yourself. And mostly, you’re successful. Mostly. Because while Drew as Drew-the-person is something you can deal with, Drew as Drew, the wrestler, huge and magnificent and practically naked, all wet hair and glistening skin, his ring gear making him look like some kind of swashbuckling semi-pornographic pirate, that Drew is an entirely different matter.

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Couple's tiny house was built entirely from torn-down movie sets
Chloe Barcelou and Brandon Batchelder spent two months designing and nine months building their new home, Brandon told Daily Mail Online. It is made almost entirely out of torn-down movie sets.

That’s what I’m talking about! Some genuine innovation in design.

I am all about those personal quirks people make to fit the house to the lifestyle (and kookiness). The slide outs, the pop-top roof, the eventual fold out deck, it’s all so rad! 

I love that I am still into this nonsense. It’s so easy to move on to the next hobby in short order. It’s thrilling to still care about this thing that could feed me (metaphorically) in ways I’m sure I haven’t yet realized. 

Highschool Seniors Weight Gain

I haven’t been able to stop eating since my exams in my junior year ended, can’t control my appetite been eating whole Ben n Jerry pints, at least 5 candy bars along with a ton of fastfood. Its got a bit silly, every time I went to a McDonald or something like that I’d challenge friends to an eating contest, I always won.

Before the break I had swam for school all through High School including my junior year, this was probably a big factor behind my big appetite that I didn’t cut down on when I stopped swimming for the summer. I was in for a bit of a shock when I came back for my senior year, I didn’t really realise how flabby I’d gotten over the break. Went back to swimming without a thought and I didn’t even need to take my shirt off to get a comment on my weight, guess is showed through it. My swim trunks didn’t fit and were really causing me to bulge out over them, not to mention I got real pale doing nothing.

Now that I have to go shirtless again I have no hope of trying to hide my weight gain from anyone, I’m fully exposed all the time, every extra pound of me. My gut and sides makes my trunks look tiny now, and they really strain all around to fit me in. All of the clothes I used to wear don’t really fit well either, at least not in a flattering way. I just can’t stop eating no matter what I do though, and swimming isn’t shifting any of the extra weight.

(Submission) Damn dude, you’re getting pretty thick there gonna split those trunks soon.

when i was young we would go to the zoo once a year and i was always hyped as shit because my little bitch ass loved those motherfucking animals

what i loved the most was seeing the elephants because elephants are rad as fuck man did you know that elephants are scared of bees and did you know that they can smell water from 12 miles away??

anyways so young me was an elephant enthusiast and when i was like 8 the zoo opened their new elephant enclosure, it was HUGE and i almost pissed my fucking pants bc i was so excited

so we go to the zoo and go see the elephants and one of the first things my chaotic brain notices is that, hey, it’d be pretty easy to just ….. go in there ….. so i sneak away from my family (i’ve got 5 siblings so it was easy) and fuckin,,,, climb into the elephant enclosure and fucking go straight up to the fuckign elephants like the careless bitch that i am

and this huge fucking elephant legit bows her head and starts sniffing me with her wet-ass trunk and bitch 8 year old me is ALIVE i wrap my tiny arms around her trunk and the elephant just looks at me with these kind eyes and i feel like i’m finally with my true family, i have finally found my home

of course, as soon as ppl notice that there’s a literal child in the enclosure they start yelling and screaming and the zookeepers come to get me out and i’m fucking bawling bc these elephants are my people!!!!! how dare you rip me away from my family!!!

you’d think they’d ban me from the zoo but they didn’t, they gave me free ice-cream and told me to never do that again, ever

i didn’t do it again until 2 years later when i wanted to touch the giraffes

Wrestlerotica: Pride & Punishment 2

I came around feeling something nudging my head and hearing all kinds of garbled voices and…laughing?  I finally got it together enough to open my eyes and realize the thing nudging me had been the asshole’s foot and the voices were his crowd of friends laughing as he made a fool out of me before our match had even started.  I sat up shoving his leg away and realized I was in my wrestling trunks, the shiny blue ones he had especially liked from my pictures I posted.  He turned to face me, “Oh look he decided he wanted to play after all!"  I was getting real sick of this punk’s mouth.

He licked his lips as I stood up obviously still groggy.  “Since this is gonna be a strip match,” the crowd cheered at that, “I took the liberty of helping you pick out some gear.”  He slid his hands along my waist and tugged at the waist of my trunks.  I looked down seeing he had put my tiny purple bikini on under my trunks.  He teased those too, pulling them up in a wedgie before letting my trunks snap back in place.  “Hope you don’t mind.”

I shoved him back scowling as he laughed at me.  “Fuck off, big man has to sucker punch to get an edge in a match?” He rolled his eyes posturing for the crowd miming a baby crying.  “Okay, okay, Jobber’s crying no fair, boo hoo.  So alright, I’ll even it up.”  He stripped his tiny trunks off and stood in just a jockstrap.  His swelling manhood already testing the mesh pouch.  “There, you’re halfway to victory. Call it even?”  

“Fine with me,” I shook my head as it started to clear, “just that much quicker I’ll kick your ass.”  He laughed at that as he eyed me circling on the mat, "You serious?  I already knocked your ass out cold and stripped you to skin-nice by the way- so technically, I already won the match, this is just a formality." 

“With a cheap shot!” He just shook his head, "That how you jobbers do it now? Cry you weren’t ready to get knocked on your ass and hope the other guy gets too tired to fight from hearing you bitch?” That was enough from this clown, I clenched my teeth and charged going for a quick takedown.  I learned that getting my ass kicked was going to be the only thing quick about this match.  He easily sidestepped me and before I could fully stop myself he turned wrapping his arm over my head and pulled me into a running bulldog SLAMMING my face into the mat.  Probably the worst thing that could happen after that KO punch.  My head immediately shattered in waving throbs through my whole skull.  I started to grit my teeth refusing to black out as I got back to my knees.    

He was on me before I even heard his footsteps, grabbing my hair and SLAMMING my face to the mat.  I started seeing spots and heard him laugh again.  “I guess I should have asked this before, have you actually wrestled before? Or did you just buy some pricey trunks and take some selfies in a ring?” I manage to moan out “Fuck you” finally opening my eyes.  He just shook his head, “Come on, now you’re just being rude.”  He yanked my purple briefs up making them a thong sitting high above my trunks making me arch my ass up grabbing at my pouch as he kept my bikini clenched in his fist grinding my balls in a spandex vice.

He kept pulling up as he stood up making me get up as well.  He released my undergear now showing a mile high whale tail.  I barely caught my breath before he BLASTED my gut with a fast knee, doubling me over.  He clenched the back of my neck keeping me bent over and grabbed my trunks with his left hand, wedging them in my ass in his fist letting my ass bubble out and showing more of my purple wedgie thong as he led me around the mat inches from the guys sitting on the bleachers; like a bad dog getting his face shoved in the carpet. 

“All these people came here for a show, and you’ve just been flopping around like a bitch this whole time!” guys in the first row kept slapping my wedgied ass as we walked by until he had taken me a full lap, busting my abs with another knee when I struggled or tried to push him off me.  We finally got back to the middle of the ring, my trunks so twisted that they were pointless, and my purple bikini all but invisible in my crack.  Little good the royal colors were doing me now.  He stood me up grabbing my jaw now, and slapping my face that was more insulting than painful, keeping me off balance. 

“Just because you’re a jobber, doesn’t mean you can’t have some self respect huh?” *slap, slap* “Gonna just come out here like a crash dummy?” *slap* “Bet you like an audience when you get that sexy ass kicked.” *slap, slap, slap* I suddenly roared out, pissed and frustrated.  I shoved him back slapping his pecs HARD making him stumble back, but he was smiling, “There he is!”  He groaned when I ducked charging in and wrapped my arms around his waist, lifting him up in a bearhug. “OH Fuck yeah, there is a man in there after all!”  He squirmed in my bearhug as I swung him back and forth, determined to wear him down and take that jock and the match from him.  I slid my hand over his ass, flexed it felt like a firm impossibly smooth cantaloupe.  I hooked my finger under the straps, yanking them up between his cheeks, “Turnabout you little bitch!” I snarled as I dug my chin against his neck.  His buddies had gotten noticeably quieter as I carried their idol around in a wedgied jock bearhug. 

Then I hear him laugh, a little breathlessly, “Ok jobber, you had your fun!”  I had a moment to register what he said, before his hand shot up, jamming a hard chop to my thorat and squeezing, choking me and the chop to my Adam’s apple made it 10x more effective.  His other hand clamped over my head in a nerve claw, digging into my temple so hard I was sure he was going to break through my skull.  I started to scream as my head exploded in pain, but he just squeezed my throat even harder cutting off air until all I could do was work my mouth letting out pathetic gasps.  I fell to my knees, my arms limply draped over his hips as I started to fade out. 

He loosened his grip enough to pull me back to my feet, my legs shaking threatening to buckle at any minute.  He raised his arm like a gladiator celebrating a sure victory.  “You ready for the fun part yet?!”  a resounding “Hell Yes!” echoed in the huge room.  He took a step back and I tried to croak out “I give” but he either didn’t hear me or he didn’t care.  His hand swung down like a wrecking ball, BASHING my crotch at the same time his hand squeezed my throat, taking breath from me again. 

My body just wanted to pass out at this point, I felt like my brain was trying its best to just shut off and resume function when the pain stopped.  I fought it, my arms waving lamely as he yanked my trunks again, setting me up for a DDT.  My vision faded in and out as he flexed his bicep against my throat and dropped down.  The mat rushed up to meet me, and then nothing.

I came around, my head splitting and I felt him teasing my bulge, my dick beginning to thicken under his fingers, he hooked my trunks, yanking them down my thighs.  I blinked, opening my eyes wide trying to make the room stop rocking as my legs flopped limply to the mat, stripped to my wrenched bikini plainly showing my chub in the thin briefs to the laughing crowd.  “Guess you like getting your ass kicked more than I thought huh?”  He shot a quick jab to my abs and dug in a deep claw. All I could do was put my hands in the way, trying to protect myself, squirming weakly on the mat. 

“Don’t worry jobber, it’s almost over, it’s almost over.”  He stroked my hair like he was talking to a scared toddler before pulling me to my useless feet.  He held me up from behind, both hands clenching my pecs in a claw as I sagged against his chest.  “Aw you’re all fucked up, come on boy.”  He shifted the pec claw to a full nelson and started walking me to the crowd again like a muscular marionette.  “One more lap for your fans!”

  There wasn’t any other word for it, I was being molested.  The lifting pouch on my bunched undergear just made an obvious target for this asshole’s buddies to fondle and grope as he walked me around the bleachers.  All of them were in the front now not wanting to miss a chance to add to this humiliation.  It was even worse because as each hand reached out and teased my pouch it got considerably bigger, thicker, swelling as each sadistic bastard added his own unique touch.  His mesh bulge pressed tight against my ass, throbbing with every twist and squirm as I tried to move out of reach; just to feel the nelson get tighter cranking my neck and shoulders as he jerked his hips forward, stuffing my briefs so far up I would need surgery to take them off again. 

By the time we passed the last bleacher I was hanging in the nelson, being dragged more than walked.  He brought me back to the center of the ring and arched back until my toes barely touched the floor, my arms held up flapping lifelessly as he stuffed my chin into my pecs.  My dick twitching in my briefs the only sign of life.  “I totally forgot guys! I know what the problem is!”  He shouted as he released the nelson.  I started to collapse but he caught me by my neck and pulled my wedgie up to make me stand.  He let me fall back into his chest as he slapped me awake again. 

“We didn’t let you pose! Muscle jobber like you can’t fight until he shows off the goods I should’ve known that.”  When I finally came fully aware he shoved me forward almost to the edge of the mat, “So come on, show off all the muscles I’m about to break down for everybody!” He stepped close behind me as I tried to fight off the fog, and pulled my head back whispering in my ear, “Make it good, or I’ll have to start hurting you.”  He slid his free hand over my heaving abs before squeezing my tented pouch before slapping my ass and taking a step back.He made a “go ahead” motion with his hand when I looked back at him, still too groggy to fully register what just happened.  I looked back at the crowd all staring at me expectantly

I warily turned my side to the crowd and began picking out the yards of spandex stuffed up my ass and flexed my abs, more in tensing for an expected attack eyeing him standing to the side arms crossed and that fucking cocky smirk.  I heard a couple of wolf whistles in the crowd, and he didn’t move from his spot.  So I faced the horny boys on the bleachers and hit a double bicep, which was agony after the full nelson.  I heard to my left “Fuckin unbelieveable” and then his arms were around my head in an iron clad sleeper. “How thick can you get jobber?”  He laughed in my ear as he dragged me back trying to struggle but way too weak at this point.  He jerked me back tightening the sleeper and taking us to the floor.


I started frantically tapping my submission on his arm after squirming to get free only tucked his forearm tighter against my neck.  I was already drifting when he said, “Okay jobber, how about you give me that double bi again?”  He jerked me to the left, crushing my head in a vice, “Come on, you got one more in you, and I’ll let you go.”

My arms flopped to the mat, getting so heavy.  I forced myself to lift my arms as he settled in, his bulge practically soldered to my back.  I hit a double bi, and groaned as pain spread through my skull and I began to drop my arms, “Did I tell you to stop flexing?!?” He screamed as he changed his grip, getting on his knees behind me.  I lifted my arms back up, swaying in his hold until I couldn’t keep the pose, one arm dropping to the mat.  He wrapped his legs around me, framing my aching pouch with his feet, spreading my thighs he arched the sleeper hold back.  I moaned out as he basically forced me to hump his feet, sensation driving me wild as he kept me right at barely conscious. 

Finally, a blessing, my body was done and I faded out, 3rd time was the charm and down for the count. I woke up sometime later, naked right where he left me.  A tiny white thong pinned to a stack of photographs on my chest.  The photo had a note on the back that said “Left you this for the rematch, your gear looks better on me anyway.” I turned it over and there was the most humiliating post match pictures of us. I was naked, dick rock hard in every picture as he posed over me in different pairs of my trunks and undergear.  Sitting on my face in my favorite thong, scissoring my bone with his toes as he flexed over me, even one that looked like I was sitting up jerking off while he flexed his bicep in my face, wearing the white briefs I came in!  I punched the mat HARD realizing my bag was indeed missing.  I slipped on the tiny thong and dreaded the drive home.

Part 1:

anonymous asked:

any updates on how chapter 8's going?

it goes something like this …

Water was dripping from Louis’ chin. He had his gaze fixed on the ground and Harry could see the drops sticking to his lashes. He looked a mess, and so, so beautiful. It took all of Harry’s willpower to refrain from pulling him in.

“Hey, Louis,” he tried again, keeping his voice low, gentle. “Look at me.”

Louis shook his head, and tore his wrist from Harry’s grip. “I’m sick of looking at you, L.A.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. Before he could say a word, though, Louis looked up, eyes literally boring into Harry’s.

“It’s not enough, okay? I’ve been looking at you in your bloody tiny trunks, and I’ve been looking at you in that suit, and I’ve been looking at you every single moment I’ve been with you.” Louis inhaled, throwing his hands up. Water sprinkled around him, hitting the glass of Harry’s patio doors. “It’s not enough. I want more. If I look at you, I want to touch you, and I want you to touch me, and I want your stupid mouth back on mine, and I want more than a fucking handjob.”

Everything was suspended for a second. Louis stared at him, and Harry wasn’t sure he felt his fingers, or that his heart was still beating. It didn’t matter, though, because his body moved on its own. He wanted to pull Louis in, but instead, fell to his knees. He had no idea what he was doing when he reached out and pulled down Louis’ football shorts.

… I’d say they’re both completely losing it. But who could blame them?